Demoness
by CrimsonCherryScarlet
Summary: There existed no natural born females in the demon race. Even Lilith, had been created from the first human female. Over the eras demons had been adding them to their ranks through deals, Sabbath and seduction... Covenants are delicate. Not all females survive. Or stay sane. Success reflects the demon's skill. Where would we be if the Phantomhive's butler couldn't do that much?
1. Chapter 1

_Bad girls are locked in the dark_.

That was the truth in Carrick's Charity School for Young Girls. What a bad girl was, however, depended on a lot of things and the headmistress would pass judgement as she saw fit. Even when the girls only stole, sold themselves and lied because Mrs Packard ordered them to. And a _good, grateful_ girl should be obedient.

Laughable.

Yes, they were taught to read, write and count so they could grow up to be teachers and governesses because the School was supposed to be an _upstanding_ and _respectable_ institution. But who cared if a couple of unwanted orphaned chits went missing?

Evelyn was very good thief because of such a rule, proving her usefulness so Mrs Packard would be reluctant to let her go while her age made her vulnerable. She had brought money and goods, jewels that could be sold or pawned off, smuggled food for her and some of the girls from time to time, a treat or two, a thicker blanket... small things.

Mrs Packard said sins had to be purged in the dark, smiling gleefully while she dragged the screaming girl of her choice into the cellar, tossing her down the stairs into a darkness so solid one could drown in it. Screams fuelled her delight while she dragged the poor victim through the floor. Then the sobbing echoed through the corridors, slightly muffled by the thick doors.

Evelyn was not a screamer, at least not when the cellar was her sentence. There were other punishments harsher than a few days alone in the dark with no food and just a bit of water.

It was quite a similar place to the cell where she found herself at the moment though the cellar had been stocked with coal, the supply rarely used for more than the kitchen needs and the amount required to keep Mrs. Packard's room and office warm and comfortable, smelled of the dark dust, smoke and dirt, was also quite bigger than her current lodgings and crushed coal could be made into a much more comfortable bed than the straw mat under her and lacked the chains that bound her to the mossy moist stone wall. Useless things those. What kind of thief would she be if she couldn't escape from those simple manacles? They were accessories she used when they came to deliver her food, faking fear, innocence and helplessness.

A few tears, a sob, hiding behind her hands… tricks of the beggar's trade.

No one came for her, family or good folks, while in the orphanage and she made sure to scare away the men that came, trying to drag her to a whorehouse or the workhouses. She preferred to keep stealing and even kill, if needed, making a place for herself in the street, for the future. So Evelyn got locked in the dark cellar so many times for her sins, for her insults, for her insubordination, for her existence, that the dark no longer felt a punishment.

Darkness was a sanctuary.

Evelyn had been on the alleys of London, stealing only for herself, working only for herself, surviving for the sake of it, for years now, having left the Charity School for Girls as soon as her age permitted, so there would be no chase, no retribution, no laws to drag her back, eyes used to the night, her hands nimble and step quick, burying herself into the most twisted of areas so she would be forgotten. A proud street rat, as it were.

Mouser was the name everyone in the seedy underworld called her, most not even realizing her gender. Her baggy, mismatched and worn clothes helped the illusion, as did the short dark brown hair that fell messily around her face, shaggy tips brushing her chin, a small braid dangling on the left side, touching her shoulder, a thick and red glass bead gleaming on the tip. Looking either too clean or too pretty in the streets was a problem that a handful of coal and ash fixed right quick.

The issue with her current way of life was a kidnapping made by a bunch of "demon cultists", as they had introduced themselves as soon as she was chained in place, that intended to use her as a virgin sacrifice. Said, word by word, with references of innocence and her ability to protect her untouched flesh to such an advanced age in such circumstances. After a lot of talk and praise about how unexpected a prize she was.

Utter nonsense.

Virgin she might be but innocent was another issue altogether. She did warn her captors about that but she was sure no fanatic would not believe her. And her attempt had been a bit half-hearted… Not that escape was difficult as they believed her caged and weak, lessening security and care. But she was in the dark, with food given to her and she was warm and had a quite sturdy roof overhead. Why change the situation? She would run when the threat grew but for now she felt happy with her forced reprieve.

Mouser sorely needed a rest as Smiling Jack was running her ragged, running in circles because of the kidnappings and murders that had had an increase that summer. People talked. And she heard. And dealt with it. A lot of things were stirring in the underbelly, most of them unpleasant and with shades of occult and otherworldliness that just felt… off. Whether one believed or not it was irrelevant. The damage would be done.

The last three days had been easy and calm.

The cell door opened suddenly, breaking the quiet with a sharp bang.

Mouser narrowed her eyes, jumping, startled, slipping the chains in place, reacting to the brightness of the lantern, watching as a boy was tossed within, rather roughly, the guards chaining him to the walls as tightly as she faked to be bound, moving away without a spare glance for either of their captives, the darkness returning abruptly as the door was closed and locked. Just grunts doing their jobs to lord that did nothing but to laze around, complain and demand.

So they had started to gather the blood to fuel the actual summoning, as they prattled on. They didn't think that it was worthy to keep quiet in front of the people they would soon kill.

So it was time to leave.

Silently she discarded her chains, standing, stretching, watching the boy carefully. Noble, rich and carrying a pair of very nice rings, despite being disguised as a street kid with an injured eye. But people saw what they wanted to see and if had been captured the cultists weren't looking too hard at what they were picking up. Her breasts were not that small even under the binds, the male shirt, the wool sweater and the shabby jacket she wore and still few seemed to notice the suspicious lumps.

"You hurt, boyo?" She asked in a low soft voice, crouching smoothly in front of him. Her eyes were an inky brown, its shape and colour almost doe-like, framed by long lashes but that was not what was remarkable about them. The colour was common and their form mattered little to her. What was important about her eyes was that they had adapted to the darkness. Shades of gray and black showed her the world when no light shone through. Colour became apparent when a sliver of light shimmered.

She saw his shape, his clothes and his attitude quite clearly. And every instinct she possessed was pointing sharply at all the oddities of his presence and demeanour. Smooth capture because there were little bruises that she could see at least. Almost no resistance while they dragged and chained him. A bit too much of relaxation and smugness in the way his eye scanned the darkness, blindly but unafraid, waiting for it to adjust.

"No." His voice showed no hint of fear of hysterics either. Good. It also sounded surprisingly worldly for a kid that should be barely thirteen and was most definitely of upper world origin. It was a voice she would expect to hear from another orphanage kid, the street rats and the broken men Smiling Jack catered to.

"I'm Mouser. Do you want to get out?" Her tone might have been a mite too cheery for the situation but she was making plans. Maybe a nice reward for being so good for the rich kid that had been playing poor and gotten caught. Some nobles did that often... go into the streets to fool around in the part of poor people, to go to the seediest brothels and gambling hells. Or when they searched for some street runner to do their dirty work. They had the fun and reassurance that their warm houses and armed footmen were waiting so only the thrill would stay with them.

"What can you do?" There was a slight mocking in his voice and a smirk as he looked up from his sitting position. Such a common attitude for his kind. He seemed to be unable to see her but was quite sure of her position as the tilt of his head allowed her to see. And then he realized she was right next to him, a slight jump of his shoulders marking shock and surprise, as he turned fully into the darkness. "Aren't you... wait..." His eye narrowed in the dark. "You were chained."

"I ain't now boyo." Mouser chuckled. Sure you ended up with bleeding wrists and sore hands on the first tries, and if one wasn't careful broken bones, but freedom made it worth it. Any cutpurse could slip out of a constable's cuffs as soon as they went into the street. She looked away, towards the door. "We have a few hours. You want out?"

"What can you do?" He repeated the question carefully, a bit of calculating interest infiltrating his expression but still no real fear within his eye. What was the little rich kiddo playing at? Waiting for a rescue? Was he the bait, the lure? The sacrifice, one used when trying to pinpoint the location of a rival gang? Had he been followed there by a small force? Had he been sold by richer or poorer familiars that saw him as an obstacle in the succession and inheritance lines?

Mouser parted her lips in a half smirk, tilting her head.

"Rude." She pretended to complain, reaching for the inside of wool sweater with its many hidden pockets, slipping her hoarded keys out. Stolen from the cultists, stored carefully. Never even felt her hands at work. Yes they had stripped her and bathed her like a disobedient pooch when she arrived, proceeding to verify the status of her lady parts, after the shock of realizing she was a woman, but they had been unable to find all the trickery and tools hidden in her clothes. That was the whole point to them. Any proper lady would have suffered a fit of vapours. Mouser… well… the orphanage was no different in their treatment when they were made presentable for their very rich and respectable patroness or were prepared as an exhibition of female flesh for possible brothel buyers. She had been redressed in her belonging and she was not sure why. Also she fit very few of the requirements for "proper lady" labelling. "Here ya go boyo." Mouser said as she snapped the chains free after a few second of tinkering.

He nodded curtly in place of any thanks, kneeling, readjusting his position to something more comfortable, eye narrowing, still scanning the darkness with the twitchy movements of a truly newly blind.

Mouser stood and walked towards the door carefully, running her hand over the surface, knocking on it with a loud bang that seemed to startle the boy, his head snapping in the direction of the sound. There was no answer nor alarm on the other side. They were most likely alone so another key was put to work and the thief opened the door and slipping cautiously into the dimly lit room. If a cell had a lock on the inside it was likely so there would be no need for a second man to open it while one had fun with who was inside. Less people who knew, less mess to curb. She huffed, amused, remembering the place.

A modified small basement with the cell created at the very end through the use of brickwork. It was like the old orphanage cellar which meant an old grand mansion. It was prepared to groom the sacrifices with a bathtub, a small fireplace, and neatly folded fabric of what seemed to be robes on the serviceable wooden table, soaps and all the little items that would be used to clean their little lambs. Not one of those titbits of information served to pinpoint their location. The kid moved out of the cell too, calmly assessing the situation.

Mouser approached the walls, sliding one of the lamps out of its support, creating a makeshift shiv before doubling back and closing the cell door once more. A safeguard if things went south and a way to pretend they were still in there if the escape was successful. There wasn't much in the room that could be used as a weapon. Throwing soaps would be distracting at most. And unless you shoved a sponge down someone's throat there was no way the floppy fluffy things would kill. Strangling someone with a towel would also be time-consuming and unpractical. No brushes, no combs. Those, bone, wood or metal could be snapped and sharpened. The bottles were too small to be more than a thrown annoyance and their glass and ceramic looked way too frail and cheap to do any damage beyond a scrape. A shard in the eye would work but the chances of such happy happening were no good.

"No guards." The boy noted, arms crossed.

"Why bother?" Mouser looked around once more, leaning against the table, stretching her legs leisurely after strapping the makeshift weapon into her outer sleeve, feeling the irregular shape scrape the fabric and touched her key pockets, listening to the slight click of the metal. "For them we're a kid and a girl. Helpless, weak, disposable."

"You don't believe I'm just a kid?" He put such an innocent façade on, turning a wide-eyed innocent look her way, voice softening just so... Mouser chuckled, straightening, unaffected.

"If you're just a kid I'm the queen." She began scanning the walls a bit more thoroughly. No windows. No gaps. No coal shoot. "Gorgeous work with the face though boyo." Everything was walled and closed off. It was obvious that they were underground and the only way out would be through the door.

She walked to it, closing her eyes, listening the sounds carefully. Dissonances were being carefully catalogued in her mind. There shouldn't be anyone there, Mouser assessed after a few moments. There were no sounds, no rustles of impatience made by the fabric of the clothes, no sound of breath, no huffs. Also any guard would have already checked the noise they had produced with the banging door and the talking… She banged the wood once more with her fist, making it groan. No response. Mouser lowered her head a bit, staring at the lock for a long moment, eyes narrowed."Did you see the way in boyo?"

"No." Blindfolded too, then.

"Tch" Mouser groaned. She wanted a cigarette so badly... It was what she missed in this impromptu vacation. Her fingers played with the braid for a moment, tapping the bead, and then the thief crouched, starting experimenting with the nicked keys. The lock opened with the clicking of well-aligned gears. Mouser sighed and appraised the boy. "Helpless us..." She whispered, amused."At what time were you caught?"

"A couple of hours or so. It was night. Nearing midnight."

Mouser nodded, considering. There would be little activity at that time in whatever was on the other side.

Softly the door opened with no creak, revealing the staircase and a second door to her right. A peek through the keyhole, as it was also locked, revealed a normal, very well stocked pantry. No coal, no coal shoot. Pity. Mouser walked softly with barely a sound but the wood tended to creak under the heavier steps of the boy. She made no fuss about it as they walked up the stairs.

Cellars and basements like that were always linked either to the kitchens or some secondary storing house to supply the manor. Another locked door whose key should only be in the hands of the butler, cook and governess blocked their way. And sure enough it was not one of her keys. Mouser grumbled and leaned against the door using the key from the cell, deforming it methodically in the process as the kid watched. Finally the tumblers and gears were either too broken or in place because the door was opened.

It was a kitchen. Empty and silent. Mouser smirked smugly, glancing at the kid, to check if he was still following, placing a finger in front of her lips, winking, asking for silence. She discarded the shiv nonchalantly, picking up a trio of wicked looking kitchen knives, balancing them. Then she picked a new one and passed it to the boy.

"Pointy end goes into people that you dislike." She whispered leaning against his head, ruffling his hair playfully, hiding the blades in her clothes. They had taken her pocket knives, her guns, her dagger, the darts and the razors… it would be a pain to replace all of that… He just watched her, expression almost unreadable. The outer doors were easier to open from within and with the materials the kitchen could readily provide. The downside to it was the silence required of the operation. The servant's quarters were near. Too near. An out of place sound and the curiosity would overwhelm them. Perhaps they had orders to ignore sounds due to the corral in the basement but one could not be too sure.

Mouser stopped looking around in the settling darkness as they stepped outside into a wide garden.

"Well… hell's blighted spit... We ain't in London." She groused, closing her eyes for a moment, rubbing the bridge of her nose, looking around. It was the outskirts surely. Such wide grounds, trees, landscaping… Few town manors could have those. The windows above their heads were dark and dead, the nobles either drunkenly sleeping of under the influence of poppy, laudanum of some such. No danger there for now but often the houses outside London's streets had guards because of the fear of highwayman and burglaries. Often it was ineffective. "Still good boyo?"

"Hoxton's estate." The boy whispered softly, eye narrowing as he did his own exam, holding the knife with a steady grip but keeping it lowered.

"Nothing like nobles playing demon baiting..." Mouser shook her head, turning to look around once more, trying to find the path to the outer wall that surrounded the richly elaborate manor. Just a few weeks ago it was prostitutes gone missing. Then the thieves started to freak about some rumours, then the kids had reported that a man had tried to grab them from the streets into a coach… Blighted hells she had been bloody busy because of a bunch of bored morons.

"They're escaping!" A voice suddenly shouted, lanterns flaring a glaring light through the flowers, shrubbery and decorative statues, the sound of gravel being crushed under heavy steps, other voices answering the shout, converging.

The boy thinned his lips, eye narrowing in annoyance as a trio of guards spotted them and gave the alarm, running, determined to stop them, recapture and re-cage. That gave them a slight advantage. They were not trying to kill them otherwise the guns would be out and would already have tried to punch a few holes into their sorry carcasses.

"Are you squeamish boyo?" Mouser whispered keeping a relaxed stance, hands in her sleeves as he shook his head slowly. "Good. This might get messy." Her dark eyes hardened a bit as the first man reached them, lunging forward, up close as someone used to close quarter's and fighting dirty, the kitchen carving knives held in both hands, her elbow going for the throat, delivering a solid hit, the knife in her hand digging itself into the stomach of the attacker, twisting viciously without hesitation, releasing the improvised weapon, going for the pistol he carried, holding it with her right hand, aiming, firing a couple of shots towards the guards, a scream letting her know she had a hit. But the third was still coming and more were approaching, their steps loud and echoing, shouts clouding the night. A few lights in the estate started to glow.

"Sebastian..." The boy's voice rose behind her, harsh and cold.

Mouser stepped back, dispatching the man, the one who had avoided her shot, knife in the throat, a shot in the chest, grabbing another gun, stuffing it into her pocked as backup, turning to shoot, grabbing the kid by the scruff, tossing him out of the way before pressing the trigger, aiming towards the guard that had gone for the grab, raising a sap to knock the boyo unconscious. The guard fell, the bullet opening a red bloom on his chest when a sudden shadow moved, the screams echoing around, each of the men that had appeared falling, some lanterns going off, one creating a small fire in the bushes, a silver knife deeply sunk in each corpse. Mouser crouched in the strange calm that followed, curious, recovering it and another pair of fully loaded guns a couple of pocket knives and a dagger before returning her attention to the implements that had delivered death. Actual silver. She closed her hand around it, pulling it out of the corpse, sliding it close to her wrist, inverting it to hide the blade alongside the inner arm. Another weapon was always useful as odd as it looked.

"Young Master." A tall man clad in black stood in front of the boy, lean and proper, smirking slightly, red eyes gleaming with amusement amongst the black hair of his fringe. So it was Ciel Phantomhive after all as the crest on his ring said. There were not that many kids with eye-patches and pierced ears running around too. Much less kids with butlers at their beck and call. And the Queen's Guard Dog was infamous in her world. "Should I kill her too?"

Mouser slid the knife out of her sleeve, on the left hand, raising the almost emptied gun and tilted her head smiling, challenging. Viewing the corpses around her might be frightening and she knew a similar fate awaited her if the kid ordered it, but she would show no fear despite the situation. Her life was survival. There was bound to be a day where she would die because of a misstep. Her stance seemed to mildly amuse the man, a smirk parting his lips, red eyes softening. Handsome man. She scoffed. Devils hid behind pleasant faces, that she knew all too well. Seen her share of them in the pits of London even though she had never seen one who was this good at killing.

"Leave her be." No emotion, no gratitude just a no-kill.

Good enough for her.

All tension faded from the trio. She slid the gun into her jacket carefully and shifted her position. The third kitchen knife was poking her slightly, guns weighting her pockets, threatening to slide the loose pants down her hips. It was some repayment for the things she had lost from the... what was it again? Hoxton's.

Ciel Phantomhive turned away and started to walk towards the gate, clearly expecting them to follow like overeager puppies, giving the guards and the ruckus behind the lit windows of the estate no spare glance.

"Were you really trying to kill me with such an unsharpened blade?" The man asked almost jokingly, approaching while still dutifully following his master. He apparently did just what he was mocking with ease. Mouser followed too, nonchalantly, sliding her hands into jacket's her pockets, cold fingers finding silver and gold trinkets from last week's market run in the inseam. They needed to be pawned.

"Jab it hard enough somewhere soft and squishy and it won't matter, mate." Mouser tossed him the blade without a care. He caught it flawlessly, bowing slightly, making it disappear with a flourished sleight of hand, breaking his step for a fraction of a second, watching her with unsettlingly clever red eyes.

A carriage waited for the Earl of Phantomhive beyond the highly decorated gate, the horses shaking their head quietly. Beautiful, slick, well trained. All that screamed rich. He'd be waylaid in the streets by the first group of ignorant brutes that didn't recognize the crest. The man named Sebastian opened the door and helped his master into the dark cabin. Prim, proper and stiff. And still something was off. There was something not truly submissive about the way he seemed to obey. Ciel looked at her for a moment, standing in the opened space, one hand holding the carriage's roof for balance, staring at her from above, gears clearly clicking neatly behind his eyes.

"Don't you need a ride back to London... Mouser?" He asked softly.

"You offering boyo?" A slight smirk was his answer. She smirked too, sliding her braid behind her ear, revealing a row of silver and gold earrings, the emergency money of a thief, pirate and sailor. One of them was always reserved to pay for their own funeral as no one would provide that much for them. "No need kiddo. Safe journey." Sebastian inclined his head formally before closing the door and taking the driver's place the horses obeying easily to the first movement of the reins.

* * *

Damp, dirty, smoky and full of some the worst scum in London, too near the Thames and ripe with its stench. The heavy smog also seemed to find its way easily into the rooms regardless of floor and whatever protections they nailed to the doors windows and cracks. That's how the Dancing Pig, Smiling Jack's den was. Then one added cheap booze, cheap entertainment, cheap over-painted, overripe whores and the picture was as foggy as it was clear.

It was almost night again as she reached the place whose creaky attic she called home. It had been a long day of walking and sneaking into farmer's carts, navigating through London and making a few appearances on her usual haunts to reassure her allies and tell Jack's enemies Mouser was _still_ not dead. She was greeted rather warmly as she walked by, her step sure and silent weaving through the clientele and furniture. Most of them would sell her, their mothers and left testicle to the devil for money, at least half of them had tried to kill her one time or another. It was just business. But they all put on the face of a friend while under that roof. It was an unspoken, unwritten rule that always was held true while in the Dancing Pig.

Big, burly and sporting an old and faded Glasgow grin that gave him his moniker Jack came to her, immensely bushy white sideburns trembling in outrage. But he waited until they were in the attic to actually burst as she dug through her belongings, remembering what she had to acquire to replace her disappeared trinkets, taking the pistols and knife out of their hiding places, tossing them onto the lumpy mattress. Followed by every item that had remained hidden in her threads while Jack's shouting scolding speech came to an end.

"Where were you, ya stray? Four days with no word..." His wide gestures filled the tiny room as surely as his voice. Smiling Jack thought of her as a replacement of his murdered child and behaved accordingly. But above all she was part of his gang albeit an aloof one.

"I was occupied." Mouser found the cigarettes and the spare steel lighter with a smile, placing a white cylinder on her lips, igniting the device with a sharp click, looking around, taking a deep happy drag of the tobacco. The heavy blankets that kept cold and light away, almost turning the place into a tent were still in place their colours faded and their appearance old and ugly, continuing to serve their purpose. Her narrow bed was unmade, covers and sheets haywire and her trunk undisturbed at its feet. "Apparently people still think I look helpless."

"Quit the fancy talk luv. And helpless?" Smiling Jack laughed heartily, reassured by her deadpan answer. "Evelyn I've known you for the last sixteen years ever since you were a wee thing with big shimmering eyes that earned her so many pity pennies and a pair of quick tiny hands that robbed them blind before the chumps could blink." Mouser smirked blowing the smoke away, watching it drift around. Four years old and Mrs Packard had tossed her with the others to the street to get more funding for the pretty dresses the old biddy was so fond of. Not that it kept them from the schoolroom every morning. "And that was before we taught you how to clean the poor sod's clock and teach him the time of day."

Mouser chuckled blowing more smoke with a gleeful look in her eyes.

"Do you have anything for me to do?"

"Nothing. Just rest." Smiling Jack grumbled, turning away, muttering all the way down to the tavern.

Mouser smiled, the cigarette held deftly between her lips.

_Now _he had nothing? Mouser stared at her feet and kicked away the boots, tossing her sorry self into the bed, besides her stolen weapons with a long sigh, shaking the ash or her cigarette into a broken pot. If she hadn't been sure Phantomhive was going to take her somewhere she didn't particularly wanted to be she would have accepted his ride. Her feet bloody _hurt_…

* * *

"That woman..." Ciel started, considering carefully, staring at the cake that had been placed in front of him, his expression closed. They had concluded the Queen's mission, destroying Hoxton's cult with ease, the man now imprisoned by Scotland Yard, his allies on the run or in hiding. Sebastian glanced at him as he poured the lapseng tea into the fine china not allowing a single drop to spill. "She might be a good addition to our staff..."

"Indeed." Sebastian agreed, voice kept politely neutral, thinking back, placing the cup and saucer in front of the boy, knowing his actual opinion was not being asked. Such was the duty of a butler and the part he had agreed to play. Also he had very little to add to that at the moment.

"Investigate." Ciel ordered taking a sip, eye closing solemnly.

"Understood." Sebastian answered, placing a hand over his heart bowing slightly, leaving to tend to his other duties, his mind at work, rearranging his day to accommodate the new request.

According to the Young Master the escape had been Mouser's doing, as dubious and amusing as that name was. And there was something about her soul, her scent, a spark that had shone through even though he had interacted little... He could feel his eyes grow a bit demonic. He recognized the instinct even though it was the first time he was experiencing it this acutely within a contract.

There existed no natural born females in the demon race. Even Lilith, had been created from the first human female. Over the eras they had been adding them to their ranks through deals, Sabbath and seduction. But it was a delicate procedure, from choosing the right female, soul, instinct, personality to the turning and training. It was also signified unlocking emotions giving the male demon something more, a sort of power no one seemed to understand but was highly sought after.

It was a very meticulous covenant.

Could that crafty creature be a good choice?


	2. Chapter 2

Mouser cradled Tobias against her chest, scratching his ears lazily while supervising the steady flow of booze being carried into the Dancing Pig, sitting on one of the big crates that were placed in front of the tavern, used to protect shooters when an attack occurred. Despite the code of nonaggression within attacks could still crop up outside. The tavern's mouser purred against her neck, craning and twisting to get a bit more of attention.

It was late morning, the workers were chattering while carrying the boxes, their voices a quick lighting blur of sound, no disasters had been reported, no patrols were missing and Jack was nursing a hangover from the darkest pits of the abyss while leaving the work of managing the Pig's activities to her, Phil and Lars.

The "Season" was ending soon and so was the time of the fat wallets and easy profitable prey. Soon it would be the time to truly work on heists, burglaries and resume the fight to control or gather territory. Then winter would come and most of them would be too busy trying not to die from frostbite, bundled up in taverns and pubs.

Some of the kids ran pass her, shouting "good mornings", laughing while heading for their posts. Resilient and cynical. Those survived. Some returned with tired looks, more sleepy than anything else, having taken night shifts to prove how grown they were, just sparing a wave and yawn.

Mouser sighed and looked around warily.

The street wasn't too busy, most of the area's inhabitants being night owls. The windows were shuttered, doors closed, a little smoke still rose from some of the chimneys coming from the last dying embers or the new fires those that had forced themselves out of the covers were starting. She put Tobias down gently with a last pat, vaulting down the crate, stretching. The mouser moved too, jumping gracefully, sitting next to her old boots, looking around, his tail undulating softly. She slid a cigarette between her lips, plucking it from someplace in her jacket and lit it up, returning the lighter to her pocket, blowing wisps of smoke as the delivery ended and the street was left empty once more, the emptied cart creaking away, disappearing on the corner.

"Should we go inside Tobias?" The cat meowed and rubbed himself against her ankles, purring. "Yeah, yeah, you lecherous old cad. I know of your siring half of the kittens in this alley." She blew another cloud of smoke watching it drift away towards the slightly grey sky.

It wasn't a pretty day for the summer time but it wouldn't be too horrid. With some luck there would be a sizable profit from pick-pocketing the nobles that paraded around in the gardens. That was the urchin's job. There were some burglaries planned for the night…

None of those operations needed her skills so whatever she did was for her sole benefit. Except that night but that was a different job altogether. Turf wars could get brutal and it was no longer just the street gangs in play. Joining the usual Brits, Scots and Irish were the Indians, Chinese and the Italians, although the latter had been quieter since the slaughter that had ravaged the Ferro family a couple months or so ago, early in the Season.

"Miss Evelyn Crows." Mouser smirked slowly at the voice and the name used to address her, back still turned to the newcomer. Tobias stilled around her feet and pawed at her pants, demanding immediate height. She took another drag of her cigarette slowly, tossing the butt into the muddy broken cobblestone, stepping on it to gutter out the small ember, before turning, minding the twisting tabby at her feet, blowing the smoke away slowly, lazily, hands in pockets, hunching slightly.

"Sebastian Michaelis." She said quietly, proving she had also done her research but had hoped the Phantomhives would once more be just a shadow on the edges of her world, mentioned but never again touching her life. Vain hope it seemed. Mouser tilted her head back, straightening, tossing her hair away from her eyes, the braid dangling.

Sebastian Michaelis stood there, dark and stiff, as prim and proper as she had seen him amongst the slaughter he had wrought on Hoxton's personal guard, red eyes examining her with slight amusement, darting ever so subtly to the cat at her feet who meowed loudly, offended by her lack of interest. She sighed and gave up, crouching swiftly, picking him up, now catching a clearly fascinated spark in the butler's eyes as the cat demanded further attention curling around her arms, rubbing his furry face against her cheek, letting out a loud purring sound, clearly staking a claim while she scratched his dented ears, leaning against the crate, sighing wearily.

"What brings you here?"

"Orders." The butler stepped slightly forward, reaching for her. Mouser tensed, torn between running and attacking, the crate protecting her back becoming a hindrance. His gloved hand slid over Tobias' ears, making the cat purr, stopping his clawed paw from nailing the butler on the wrist. That brought his body way closer to hers than she would have liked and since he was so damned tall it forced her to look up so she wouldn't lose eye contact. Still her body thrummed, poised to run, tense with his proximity, feeling quite trapped. Usually men didn't get this close to her unless she was killing them. "The Young Master would like to recruit you." Sebastian's voice slid softly around her, deep and mesmerizing, his eyes unreadable as his hand moving near her face, playing with Tobias, the cat's motion occasionally making the fabric of his glove brush against her skin, prickling her with a tiny jolt of awareness.

"Aye, aye…" She mumbled into the air, her voice carefree as Tobias yellow eyes closed, trembling in feline ecstasy. Mouser broke eye contact, chuckling quietly, feeling her face warm. She was blushing? "Why in the blighted depths of this flea bitten pit of filth would he want that?" His scent was… odd. And if he was close enough for her to sniff him it was way too close.

"Something about you impressed my Young Master." His answer seemed simple and straightforward. Mouser couldn't help but laugh as her eyes hardened coldly.

"Is he one of those? Fake philanthropists peppering the high ups trying to save some poor lost soul as a way to justify their lazily expanding bums?" Sebastian was smiling at her outburst. Mouser tilted her head and sighed deeply, rubbing the bridge of her nose. No. the Boyo didn't look like their ilk. Looked like one of the hirers, the users. "If I wanted the life of a maid or a governess I would have stayed on the orphanage and behaved like a grateful little git." She poked his shoulder harshly, eyes narrowing. "Also if I wanted to be bossed around by an arrogant male I could have just as easily chosen the life of a streetwalker."

Sebastian leaned against her ear, never stopping his petting of Tobias. Probably wise. The cat usually turned on men even when they were of scratching use. Why was he behaving like a puddle of feline adoration with that man? Why was she working hard to avoid doing the same?

"Maybe it was that spirit." His whisper was hot and seductive, a slow tempting rhythm, flattery stirring around her like a hypnotists voice, his lips close enough to her ear that the heath of his breath was teasing along her skin. Sebastian moved slightly away, stopping for a moment, touching her face, tilting her chin, making her look up once more. "The skills we desire are the ones this life has honed."

The gesture had the condescendence one would give a child but the thumb on the underside of her jaw was making decidedly adult teasing. Mouser gulped, keeping her focus. _We?_

"And what would I gain in this trade?" The thief was not the trusting sort from the start and her life had taught her that nothing was as true as it appeared. People lied and people cheated. She made a living using those simple facts. Her mind was churning quietly, measuring the possibilities carefully.

Sebastian smiled, sliding the braid away from her face with his free hand, thumb brushing her cheek, a faint chime coming from her earrings as his fingers left them. Mouser almost jumped out of her skin with surprise and the sudden burst of warmth, the spark the touch ignited. She could see why Tobias was still purring in her arms even though her hands were as immobile as death. She looked up, eyes wide, her breathing in disarray. It was a smile that people would believe, a smile that spoke of innocence and honesty. Faker than hers.

"To be in a house, warm, protected, safe…" Hopes and dreams that lured… If they wanted her for her skill there would be few things safe about the job.

"Liar." She whispered back, feeling breathless. But not a total lie either as she would be in the house, protection came with the master's name although it wasn't total and she could keep herself safe. Too close, too strange, too handsome. "Can you step back? This is looking mighty odd from the outside seeing most people here believe wholeheartedly that I am male."

"Blind fools." Sebastian whispered amused while stepping back, avoiding Tobias' claws once again, standing straight and formal as if none of those moments where he was weaving some sort of hold over her never happened.

"I encourage it." Nothing deadlier than being a pretty girl in the streets. Seen it so many times… Broken, hurt, tossed away. Mouser crossed her legs uneasily.

"I do not tell lies" He spoke after a long pause, looking around, appraising the surroundings once more as if preparing to face some sort of threat. Then he snapped out of it and his attention returned to her. There was something in his voice and in the sly smirk twisting his lips that made her believe, disbelieve and fear for her life.

"Telling the truth and being entirely honest are two very different things." There was so much one could do with truths and half truths and omissions… Sometimes why lie at all?

"Not all understand that." And darn if the slight warm smile of pride he gave her didn't make her insides just a mite too warm and gooey. Mouser shook her head, the cold glass bead slapping her cheek, jolting her into awareness.

"Aye…." She mumbled slowly placing Tobias on the crate, next to her, hoisting herself up, sitting. "You want me to be what, then?"

"You would be placed as the Young Master's secretary." Sebastian did not move, staring at her. Mouser curled over herself, one elbow on her knee, head in hand, eyes narrowing.

"Secretary?" She deadpanned, amused.

"My assistant if you prefer to nitpick." The butler shifted, taking his watch out, checking the time. Mouser's eyes followed the nice silver clock, her mind making numbers out of it. A bit harder to steal seeing it was connected to his tailcoat by a chain. Any tug would be too noticeable.

"I…" She shook herself into the present, teetering. And Sebastian snagged that opportunity like a true con artist, flipping her usual game.

"Would your group fault you for grabbing the most profitable opportunity? For escaping this?"

"No." She admitted slowly. The core members of Jack's gang protected her too much, treated her like kin even while exploiting her skill set. "Jack would encourage me to grab what opportunities I can to get out…" She grunted making a vague gesture towards her surroundings, resigned. His points were valid and his logic was rubbing itself with her own. Trickery. She was being nicely conned. And she was foolishly going to accept. Mouser resigned herself, defeated. Survival. Grab what you can and regret nothing you leave behind. "You sir are the devil."

"I'm just a hell of a butler." Sebastian retorted, looking slightly amused, closing his eyes with a smirk. "How soon will you be able to come to the Phantomhive Manor?"

So smug. Mouser snorted.

"As soon as I'm able." She examined him. "Can I wear what I please?" There was a slight look of surprise in his eyes before he masked it and nodded.

"Clothes will be provided. Also weapons will be purchased to your tastes if need be."

"Tomorrow." She just had to announce her chance to Jack…

"Meet me in the Phantomhive town manor then." Sebastian bowed slightly, taking her hand, first by the wrist, turning his palm slightly so hers fit within it, his fingers brushing the inner side of her wrist, kissing the back of her hand softly, in an almost courtly manner before walking away, leaving a lingering caress over her wrist and palm.

Mouser blinked a few times and then shook her head, turning her back on him, jumping of the crates, Tobias following on her step, still placing himself around her ankles as she went into the Dancing Pig.

* * *

Sebastian made his way towards the city's manor house after checking the clock once more. The Young Master would still be in bed, being exhausted from the sudden trip to London's residence after receiving the message from Lau. It was an unusual way to be called but it could not be helped. It was the Phantomhive's duty to monitor such stirrings in the underworld. And they would also use the opportunity to pick up Mouser. Sebastian had time to run all kind of errands after helping the Young Master into bed and Mouser had been the last one he'd tackled because dealing with humans could take longer than one would expect.

Mouser was at the same time resistant and pliable. On the other hand he was quite sure now that she had whatever made demons choose a female for their own. It wasn't just feel of her soul… Still couldn't place whatever _it_ was but their conversation had cemented his suspicion. _You sir are the devil_. Amusing little quip but she seemed to be using it figuratively. At least so far.

Humans were prey. The rare ones that had either a unique soul or were a female that could be turned… they were prey of a different kind. Under the acrid smell of coal smoke and ash that permeated Mouser's clothes, under the dark charcoal blotches she purposely created to hide her age and gender there was a soft scent of soap and female mixed with the tobacco, creating something oddly unique. No fear but wariness while she fought to show him an unaffected face while he placed the first stepping stones…

Sebastian closed the door behind him, stepping out of his outer jacket and tailcoat, rolling his sleeves, sliding the gloves into place to start the day, preparing breakfast, picking the tea leaves, ironing the paper. There were no other servants to order around so any other tasks would have to be done by him. Not that was any different for any normal day. He just didn't have to fix another's mistakes while fulfilling his obligations.

* * *

"Good morning Young Master. Its time to wake up." Sebastian always liked saying that with the most sickeningly happy tone he could manage, a notch to loud and slightly too shrill. The Head of the Phantomhives was never a cheerful person, much less in the morning. It annoyed the boy but he could find no fault in the behaviour because that was the way a butler should conduct himself. Also he was too sleepy and too startled awake to notice the difference. He would just feel annoyed by it. The same went with opening the curtains before he had time to adjust to the awakened state, always resulting in a grunt and flinch.

Sebastian poured the tea with carefully measured movements, appraising the mood and the quantity while Ciel stretched looking around drowsily for a moment, before his eyes regained their usual focused frown. His soul hummed strongly in his senses.

"Have you done it?" Ciel demanded, turning, hands clutching the bedding.

"Today's tea is Nilgiri." It was dark in colour and very strong in flavour and scent, filling the room, the odour wafting lazily from the cup. Sebastian passed the cup and saucer gracefully, waiting till the Young Master had a firm grip, before straightening, stating his findings.

"Evelyn Crows. Born outside of wedlock, a bastard child of the heir of rather prominent merchant family who died in the ocean a few months before her birth. The mother, Sophie Crows, actress, singer, courtesan, died in childbirth. The child was immediately been taken to the orphanage and seeing that there was a considerable amount of money associated to her mother's name the headmistress jumped at the opportunity. Also if tragedy continued to befall her sire's family, the Deveriges, whose only survivor is the rather elderly Lady Ophelia Deverige"

Who would never in her strict and moral life allow a bastard child of her grandson to bear her upstanding name. But after death that would no longer be an issue for those who pursued said money.

"Evelyn could become an heiress to be sold in the wife auctions. While the headmistress had the child she could also manage her banking accounts. Evelyn abandoned the orphanage at age sixteen, as soon as she was considered an adult, and disappeared. Most people, whoever cared to remember, believe her to be dead."

Sebastian paused for a moment, appraising his young master's reaction. A slight frown of concentration cracking the usual bored look. He moved on.

"As Mouser few seem to be aware of her identity or even gender. Most fear her outside her gang. It appears she is an intelligence gatherer, an enforcer and assassin used by Smiling Jack when he feels the need to be ruthless with outsiders and others of his ilk." Sebastian moved a bit around, going into the closet, choosing the day's clothes, setting them neatly, ready for dressing. "She has agreed to work for you."

Ciel sipped his tea considering. So soon? He expected it to put Sebastian through a considerable amount of trouble and moving around. True it was a similar method to what he used when recruiting the other servants but he had been remarkably fast at pouncing at that opportunity.

"What is your interest?" The Earl pinpointed the heart of the mater quite quickly even if the original curiosity had come from him. Sebastian kept his face calm and composed, looking at him with a slight, politely blank, smile. "Answer me truthfully." The boy prodded again, growing suspicious taking hold, his dislike for being left in the dark demanding answers immediately.

Sebastian sighed rather theatrically and adopted a pensive stance, looking up, towards the ceiling.

"Do you know how female demons are created? They start as female human prey…" Sebastian kept his voice light and playful, smiling carefully, leaving no doubt about what he wished to do to their new employee, making the young master cringe slightly, almost letting go of the cup and saucer, eyes wide.

"You want a toy?" Ciel cut, his voice dragged out painfully, before Sebastian could go into detail, his expression changing to absolute shock.

"Would you allow me that small token?" Sebastian bowed slightly, catching the clicking gears behind Ciel's eyes after the shock had worn off. It took a while still but it was quite amusing to watch the play of emotions and feelings going on behind his eyes. He hadn't intended to go into detail anyway but it was a chance to make the Young Master squirm. If a demon was useful two demons might be better... And a female at that. It wasn't like they could trust Meyrin for some things and the incident with the dress still grated on the Young Master's sensibilities. If Mouser had been there that time they could have used her to bait Druitt couldn't they?

"Who would she obey?"

"Mouser will still be working for you and through the covenant forged by creating her she will abide by my words. As my loyalty is to the Young Master ultimately she will still be one of your pieces." There. Pretty, neat and alluring.

"Very well." Ciel conceded, eyes narrowing as he stared into his tea. He probably wanted to enjoy the sight of his struggles as females were known to be difficult and he had his own issues with his fiancée as the baseline comparison.

* * *

It was had small group crossing enemy territory at night through the heavy fog of the dimly lit streets, as the gas lamps were sparsely placed, enough to create light but not to eliminate the darkness as they did in the richest streets, not rising any suspicions from the outer patrols at the edges of the territory. They had been summoned there to _talk_ about the incidents after all and nobody would want to disturb them before their own boss had ordered it. A bit of thuggish etiquette but when the gangs had the Yard, the coppers, the so called spider and the boyo breathing down their necks you either played by the underworld rules, bending them carefully here and there or prayed not to discovered while being outright greedy. That had been the Ferro's problem by all accounts.

Meetings were a way to keep balance and talk about the distribution of territory and loot or to deal with some offence or demand. More often than not blood was spilled, leaders killed and more territory was added to the surviving group. Quite by accident or a way to cleanse an insult made at the talks.

The theatre wasn't exactly abandoned despite its boarded up windows and shabby looking outside but it no longer hosted shows or a troupe. It used as Rory's base and a way of showing off his power, dazzling underlings and supplicants with a performance of power created by all the glitter within, using it as a noble would inhabit a palace. But being a former public house created for spectacles came with a few vulnerabilities, most of them compensated by the presence of heavily armed guards. It didn't have the protection Jack enjoyed at the Pig. Taverns were considered neutral ground no matter what, no matter where.

Jack had no intention of talking.

That did not mean that appearances shouldn't be kept while waiting to meet the one who had to be killed.

Mouser walked behind Jack, smoking quietly, head kept low, staring at where she placed her feet, hands stuffed into her pockets, closed lightly around the pistols. Lars and Phil talked to each other over her head, keeping their moods light, one on each side of her. Harry and Hobbs were on the lookout, their guns plainly in sight, watching the rear. Flanking Jack were Colton and Red, looking burly and angry. All in all a small guarding contingent proper to Smiling Jack boss status. Quite non-threatening.

They were allowed in by equally brutish looking door guards and asked to disarm in the first great hall, under a big bright chandelier. Elegantly worked tables lined the walls. Most of them were forgeries. But Rory liked to think himself a gentleman. Eight guards waited for them to comply, their own arsenals displayed.

This would be a critical trick to the plan.

Mouser blew a ring of smoke, taking the cigar away from her lips, tossing it on the tiled floor, crushing it slowly. A slight insult. Two of the thugs ran to fix, pushing her aside, sweeping the floor and rubbing a wet cloth over it. Jack went first with two pistols, taking them out, placing them on the table. They patted him down quickly, their manly pride quite baffled by the action, finding nothing else. He was followed by the other guys, the process similar, the patting awkward and seemingly ineffective, leaving Mouser for last, waiting, staring at the small pile of blades and pistols. She pretended to hesitate.

"Mouser." Jack said calmly, as if admonishing a young boy.

There was a slight pallor in the faces of their opposition when she was identified. She sighed in resignation sliding the two pistols out of her jacket pockets followed by a trio of pen-knives from the inner lining, rolling her outer sleeves up and unsheathing two flat daggers, placing them on the table, crouching to pick up a pair of gambler's guns out of her boots, another knife from her belt, explosives and blinders from her pants. Then she hopped in place for a moment, checking if the _other_ weapons didn't clink. They patted her down quickly, almost gingerly, focusing on the baggy pants, finding only her cigarettes and a lighter, allowing her to keep those, as her display had delayed them quite enough.

Rory waited in the centre of the brightly illuminated stage, opening his arms in welcome. Mouser used the time it took for him to complete his presentations and dramatic announcements, looking around, pinpointing the defences. No shooters in the galleries. They were actually filled with crates and merchandise, supplies and baubles. Solid doors had taken the place of the curtains. Maybe paranoia. He could also be murdered if someone managed to sneak in and settle in one of the booths. Guards flanked the entry points. One main door and two smaller, leading to the stage discretely disguised on the walls. The thugs were left on the audience under the watch of the door guards.

Mouser walked up with Smiling Jack, lighting a cigarette nonchalantly, unthreateningly, as Rory called someone named Pascal, a brute of a man, clearly a personal bodyguard, guiding them to the private quarters behind the curtains where a table as set for the negotiations.

Jack sat. Rory sat. Pascal stood next to his boss. Mouser stayed near hers playing with smoke.

"I do welcome you and your boy Jack…" Rory started placidly, trying to make his voice sound more cultured and higher class. It was not working. Mouser thought picking her cigarette, shaking the ash to the floor, watching his dismay and effort to conceal it. "Seeing that I invited you here… Care for a scotch?" He poured a generous amount to himself while eying his opposition carefully.

Mouser blew a bit of smoke, placing the cigarette back on her lips, looking down, keeping her body still, hands casually crossed over her chest.

"There's the matter of my urchins." Jack said sweetly, his unnatural grin helped by the cold glow of his eyes. She saw Rory flinch. As her sources said he was fully aware of his blokes' actions. The shot was cold and precise, catching Rory's chest squarely before he had a chance to open his mouth, the second nailing the bodyguard before he had time to pull his pistol. Mouser lowered the gun she had fished out of her inner shirt and looked at Jack, taking the cigarette away from her lips, a grey cloud slithering out with a smile, approaching the men, delivering a second shot to Pascal's prone form, truly dispatching him.

"That settles it then." Mouser whispered wryly. Jack chuckled, standing walking out, taking the stage.

Outside the sounds of the fight had grown and ebbed down, their ambush successful.

"Is any of you willing to die for a corpse?" Smiling Jack asked as the men he had brought and the ones that had invaded subdued the guards, those who had surrendered when the gunshots had echoed through the galleries from Rory's backroom.

* * *

The trunk was almost full and most of her belongings seemed to be either tobacco, lighters, ammo or arms of some kind. She had chosen not to conceal any of them on her person that day. Seemed the nice respectful thing to do as Sebastian said they would supply her with weapons in addition to clothing. Some of hers might still be salvageable. Some of them were gifts.

Mouser had spent the night after the new territory had been taken in the tavern, celebrating their victory and her chance. While they indeed approve and encouraged the departure there was a lot of bemoaning about losing the Mouser and all the wonderful intel provided. How were they to repeat the success of Rory's Raid without him? They had urchins, they had whores and they had brains, that's how, was her laughing answer while raising a pint.

Jack had been helping her pack throughout the wee hours of the morning while cautioning her again and again and again about the ways of the nobles. Mouser just smiled while bobbing her head, murmuring an agreement occasionally. _Do what's right by you. That's all I can ask._ Jack said often through the speech.

She still refused his help as she loaded the trunk into the fiacre' luggage rack, the vehicle that had been called for her, driven by one of his men. The driver strapped the trunk into place silently, his eyes darting around naturally, the habit of a pit dweller, as Mouser hugged Jack quickly, in thanks, before hopping into the closed space or the passenger's seat, leaning back, allowing herself a moment of relaxation, rubbing her eyes tiredly as the horses started their trot, the wheels moaning, the box bobbing. Then her attention snapped again to the world outside the window. How many nobles had they waylaid and robbed blind on their way home simply by swapping the driver and leading them into an alley?

The maze-like streets and wobbly dark wood and blackened brick façades of the under classes gave way to the well organized and fancifully arranged manors in almost no time, the sun making the whites gleam, the plants look lush and the fences no less imposing. Bumpy roads gave way to a smooth ride over flat cobblestone. The only movements that could be seen were the delivery carts and hackneys. Suppliers of goods, news and letters. The fiacre stopped abruptly at the backdoor of the Phantomhive townhouse with a groan, the horses snorting. Mouser hopped out without hesitation, helping the driver take her trunk, noticing the door opening quietly at the end of the small path through the garden.

"Thanks." She said softly, picking up her luggage with a bit of effort, grunting, walking towards the house, closing the iron gate with her boot, panting a bit, placing the trunk down as the fiacre creaked away. Mouser stared at the manor for a long moment, crossing her arms, fingers touching her cigarettes without picking one. She could pinpoint at least eight points of entrance for a burglar, three of which could only be used by a very good one. The shrubbery and nicely balanced gardens added to the privacy of the main house. Something meowed from the bushes. She glanced down and smiled, crouching. "You're not from these parts either…" Her hand petted the sleek black-and-honey head of the cat, scratching his chin with a coo, noticing it scarred tail and forepaws. Not a nobleman's pet.

"Mouser." She disguised her surprise when Sebastian's voice caught her unawares, gulping a squeak, barely keeping herself from hopping onto her trunk like a lady that had just seen a rat, standing slowly, turning slightly guiltily, keeping a straight face with some effort. He was smiling faintly, eyes closed, tilting his head a bit.

"Good morning." Mouser grated out softly, embarrassed.

"Indeed. Welcome. Come." He picked up her trunk as if it weighted nothing, ignoring her protest with a wave, guiding her into the house, the cat following them, sitting by the door, staring pointedly. Sebastian placed the trunk near the kitchen table and picked up something from the counter, going back outside, giving it to the cat with an unguarded smile and a caress. So that's why the cat was sneaking and loitering about.

Mouser chuckled, amused by the glimpse of a softer side and looked around. It was like any other kitchen in the nobles' domains, big, neat, well stocked and well equipped.

Sebastian came back closing the door quietly, straightening with a sigh, looking her up and down. Mouser blushed suddenly, feeling… oddly nude. She coughed a bit averting her eyes, breaking the feeling. Maybe it was because he knew she was a woman and was not someone she had known for a long time. It was just the strangeness of being regarded as female after quite some years of boyishness.

"How will this go, then?" Mouser asked, rubbing her hands together, stretching.

"I thought you might want to bathe and change clothes before we go through your weapons and check what can be of use and what needs to be improved in order to be a Phantomhive servant. Then the Young Master would like to talk to you before I show you to your room and clothes." Sebastian quickly surmised the plan while opening her trunk and starting to place her armoury on the table, flicking open one of the pocket knives, checking the blade. "The bathing chambers are down this corridor and I assume you don't want my help." There was something so suggestive about the way he rolled the words out that made her shiver in instinctive response, barely suppressing a girly sigh. Then her sense of humour kicked in. Nobles were helpless in those things. The boyo being younger than most would be doubly so. And if she was to be Sebastian's assistant… something told her nanny might be an appropriate appellation also.

"I'd rather not be manhandled on the first day no matter how handsome you look." Mouser sniggered, lowering her head in acknowledgment as she walked out. She heard his slight chuckle as a mild triumph on her part.

* * *

Bathing chambers…

Even if it was the servants' part of the house it was a good deal more luxurious than she was waiting for. The room was of modest proportions, with a small fireplace to warm the water and keep the air pleasantly balmy. The coal was burning low, just enough to warm the water as August was still coming to an end and summer blazed outside. The tub had to be an item that once belonged to the main bathing chamber but had been relegated down because its colour had faded and turned dull and some cracks lined the porcelain. It was already partially full and warm when Mouser's fingers glided over it. Towels were piled on their cabinet with soaps and sponges and a change of clothes awaited her on a small bench. A plain simple blue dress. Just to cover up it seemed.

A cracked mirror returned her visage for a moment. Pale and sleep-deprived. Mouser stuck her tongue out at the reflection and stretched, chuckling, undressing, sliding the braid loose and washing the brown locks first before twisting the short unruly strands, keeping them out of the way and adding the hot water, grabbing a soap and indulging in a bath.

The clothes didn't fit right but that wasn't their purpose but the way they made her look reminded her a bit too much of the orphanage's uniform so she did her best not to look at the mirror after placing cloth over her body, returning to the kitchen, stopping surprised when she noticed that her weapons were cleaned and displayed on the long table while the butler busied himself with the breakfast preparations. Also there was a simple mug of steaming tea and some sort of curly glazed bread waiting for her in the edge of the table, near what seemed to be the bladed weapons section.

Mouser was sure she hadn't taken that long to bathe. There was no way… She glanced at him once more, eyes narrowing with suspicion. The thief shrugged and walked in sitting on the bench, picking up the hot tea, sniffing, glancing at the sweet bread as if it would be taken at any moment. Its scent was strong and enticing.

"It would be no good if you stomach rumbled while talking to the Young Master." Sebastian looked over his shoulder while tilting the skillet, stirring something that smelled quite heavenly.

"Thank you. So what's your opinion on my haul?"

"Quite a selection. How do you carry and distribute them?"

"I prefer to have the two flat daggers against my forearms. The pocket knives… are very easy to conceal so I usually loose count. I keep finding them in inseams I forgot I had." Mouser crossed her legs, balancing on the bench, taking a careful but blissful sip of black tea, sighing into the cup. "The pistols and revolvers… usually got two under the arms, two behind my back, against the small of it, and two on my thighs. And there's the gambler's guns. They're weak but in close quarters that doesn't matter." The group of derringers gleamed prettily and daintily on the other side of the table. "One in the breast pocket, two against my waist and one in each boot." She sighed, smiling. It seemed like overkill when said like that. Sebastian threw her an amused look perhaps sensing her train of thought. "And then I tend to use whatever is available wherever I'm at."

"All of them seem in good working order. You'll just need custom sheaths for the daggers and proper holsters as your uniform will not allow you to keep them hidden in messy folds." He placed everything he had been preparing into a tea cart and smiled.

"And this is?" She pulled the dress a bit.

"Just something to wear while waiting." Sebastian was placing the breakfast items on a silver platter, displaying them carefully. Mouser frowned. Somehow that seemed like an excuse… No matter how rich Phantomhive might be clothes with that swiftness were… "Enjoy your tea."

Mouser smiled mildly, reflexively, as he left, looking at shimmering dark liquid within the mug.


	3. Chapter 3

"Diced, sliced, cubed or just peeled?" The thief asked tossing another peeled potato into the pot flicking the curling rind from the knife into the trash sack, picking up another, sliding the blade around it slowly, leaning back, the bench tilting, bare feet propped on the table. Sebastian had glared a bit at that, clearly going for a scolding, growing quiet and warily watchful when she picked the kitchen knife and started to take care of the vegetables.

"You don't have to help with lunch preparations." The butler said once more, checking on the cake, busying himself with the meat, sticking cloves and rubbing seasoning into it, the gloves stained red.

"Hmmm. I'm not supposed to assist you?" She tossed the yellowish-white oval in and picked another brown lump, her tone playful. "Besides a house this size with only you as a servant…"

"It's quite all right." Sebastian lowered his head a bit and swept the onions into a skillet and placed it on the fire to get them golden. "Just peeled then."

"Looks like." Another potato bounced against the pot, the soft sound of steel against the vegetable restarting. Her legs were crossed by the ankles and the dress was not exactly set on its most decorous flow but there was no one else there now was it? "It took you a lot more time to wake up the boyo than to do all those chores that by rights were not a butler's and would take probably all afternoon to be completed by a single pair of hands."

"Your point being?" Sebastian stopped for a moment, glancing over his shoulder, recognizing an interrogation, amused by the fact that she had started to connect the dots so soon. Curious humans usually did not survive him. Sebastian shook his head slightly, going back to the miserable tasks he had to perform at near human capabilities. She grinned, moving a bit tossing the potato at his head, watching as he sidestepped it and caught it in his palm, placing it next to him, near the sink without even a glance towards it. Her smile was smug as another peel started to curl over her hands.

"Deamhan." Mouser murmured calmly standing, tossing the last potato in, picking the pot, placing it on the counter, standing next to Sebastian, grabbing the one that had been thrown, joining it with its kind. The evidence was clear but as people often chose to look the other way when faced with the surreal it was not strange that the Phantomhive butler had been also overlooked. Superstition and religion still held their powers and place even if the world seemed to be changing. Then there was the interest in occult, hypnotism, mysticism and ancient tradition as fashion dictated. Also the cats. Wasn't it said cats only loved women and demons? Tobias certainly was responsible for more bloodshed amongst the clientele of the Pig than the bouncers.

"You speak Gaelic?" Sebastian smiled, fangs now apparent, his eyes going from dusky red to a pinkish glow, wiping his hands on the apron, turning towards her, towering over her. Mouser examined them languorously, curiosity somehow overruling her fright. Unless he had put opium in the tea there was no way that could be a fakery.

"Cussing mostly. Had a few Scots in the gang." She smiled at him putting on a show of brazenness. "They were... not quiet."

"The Young Master will be disappointed."

"Likes the drama does he not?" Mouser leaned, washing the potatoes, her sleeves pulled to her elbows, placing each cleaned vegetable on the cloth he had spread out for that purpose. Sebastian stared at her arms and wrists for a moment, finding scars crisscrossing them, thin and pale, old. They didn't seem to impair her movements so he left it at that. "You said… when you came to the Dancing Pig who were you talking for?"

"For my Young Master of course." Sebastian turned once more to the oven and stirred the onions.

"Despite what was said… I can see no need for my talents when he already had yours." She turned slightly, staring at him with a frown. "Why do _you_ want me?"

"I'm a man."

"You're not."

"I'm still male."

"And now I feel I should back away very slowly and quietly."

"You won't."

"Feeling very smug about…" Mouser hadn't seen him move, her words dying in a breath. But somehow he had and now was standing in front of her, pinning her against the counter, arms caging her, bare palms flat against the stone, a sly gleam in his dark eyes, his face hovering near enough for her to feel the heat of his skin on hers, his scent once again making her senses falter. His fingertips teased slowly along her cheek, the freed arm giving her no room to sneak away, tilting her chin up, slightly, exposing her throat, just before his warm lips brushed over hers in a light, sweet kiss that lingered for a few too quick heartbeats before he stepped away, returning to his chores with a smirk his eyes lingering on her for a moment longer before snapping the gloves into place once again and getting the cake out of the oven.

Mouser kept her hands on the counter, gripping the edge of the stone, her eyes wide before letting out a breath, closing them, her face reddening and getting out of her tiptoes. Well then… that was a first…

"Blighted overly randy black hearted angel kissed hell-spawn…" She grumbled rubbing her face with a groan. "What are you so keen on gaining by taking me?" Mouser's voice came out softly, her outburst calming some of the turmoil.

"Power." Sebastian answered, showing his fangs in his smile, not facing her directly while mixing the cake's filling.

She looked away, letting go of the counter.

"What do I gain?"

"Power." The demon repeated in a lower tone, leaving so much unanswered.

* * *

Mouser _did_ possess the skills needed for a secretary. The test Ciel challenged her with was relatively easy. Read, write, count, sort the mail, present a quick report, behave and talk like a well bred lady. To keep the façade those would be essential. Her other abilities needed no further exhibiting.

Ciel examined the penmanship on the refusals of the day's invitations with a mildly satisfied expression before signing them. According to her, as he verified each requirement carefully, they did manage to teach something at the orphanage in-between beatings and being thrown out to steal. Mouser didn't elaborate on that, sitting with a straight back and a demure expression, hands over her lap, the tips of her fingers blackened by ink, bare feet over the carpet, looking very much the part of the sweet innocent young lady. The dress helped.

Even though she still called the Young Master boyo it seemed to be something he was willing to admit. A quirk of hers… as Meyrin's clumsiness, Bard's explosions and Finny's… whole self. The sheer usefulness counterbalanced the harmfulness of such attitudes. Also there was the demonic potential to consider and the fact that the boy often got out of his way to find something that sparked his interest or amusement.

Sebastian stood next to Ciel's chair, solemnly, composing the picture of a sombre master and the faithful butler.

Mouser's eyes narrowed slightly, suspicious about the shift and positioning. Yes, he liked the drama and was preparing for the big announcement. Probably would like her to have a bit of a vapours fit. Her fingers reached for the place where her cigarettes would be, stopping short, remembering she had none in that dress. She huffed and flexed her hands slowly.

"There is something else you might need to know." Ciel Phantomhive announced as his face was composed into a smug grin, the cadence of his voice carefully enunciated. Mouser smirked, leaning back on her chair, adopting a more relaxed countenance, crossing her legs under the loose skirt, one elbow on the chair's arm, face on her palm, the picture of slouching sloth.

"He's not human. I know." Mouser said softly tilting her head towards Sebastian.

Ciel's face was a mask of pure bewilderment and astonishment, his dramatic moment cut short by her bored answer. Sebastian chuckled discreetly behind him, his eyes flaring demonic for a moment as his gloved fist was pressed against his mouth, hiding the smirk. The Earl of Phantomhive managed to regain his footing, coughing to cover up the surprise, putting on airs.

"Stop showing off Sebastian." Ciel straightened, his hands placed on the desk, interlacing as he leaned forward, conspiratorially. "It bodes well that you could realize the true nature of one of my servants. As he informed you of your secondary duties?"

"Strict boyo." Mouser smiled and looked at the clock for a moment, frowning. "Those involve guarding you. As you saw before I have no issues with that." She blew her hair out of the way, smirking.

"Very well." Ciel nodded slowly. "Sebastian show her to her room and help her settle in. I expect you start tomorrow morning. And bring me some cake."

* * *

What did a lady need? It wasn't a hard question to answer in theory. Sebastian had chosen clothes, shoes, gloves, underwear and some choice pieces of jewellery. A servant of the Phantomhive manor needed to be elegant and presentable. At least the ones who were seen with the Young Master. Also it was another way to keep her attention. The butler closed the door of the study after delivering the orange infused black tea and marble cake to the Young Master, returning to the servants' quarters in a sedated pace, checking his clock.

For now Mouser would share a room with Meyrin. Despite the fact that he had somewhat admitted his intentions and had been toying with her ever since he'd received the order it would be too abrupt, and possibly frightening, for him to order the prey into his room.

The last thing he wanted was to complicate his play. Seduction had its rhythms and it depended heavily on the prey's acceptance. He knocked softly.

"Come in." Mouser answered, her voice muffled by the door. She was staring at the full length mirror that stood between the two narrow beds as he walked in, the reflection returning a mistrustful look as it stared back while she made small movements.

It was a simple room, plain walls, boarded floor, a couple of simple gas lamps providing the light, one window near the ceiling, closed, the beds, a small rug in between them, a large wardrobe against the wall.

Sebastian appraised her slowly, appreciating his choices. The elegantly tailored black trousers, a male model adapted to her feminine shape, a linen white shirt, the collar opened just so to reveal a black silk choker, a play on a bowtie, under a pinstriped, black and white, corseted waistcoat with silvery buttons. Black leather and lace round toed ladies' high heeled boots gave her a bit more of height. A silver comb with engraved ravens pinned her hair back, leaving only a few fashionably unruly strands out.

"It suits you." Sebastian commented as he approached and adjusted the choker into a softer bow and the comb, creating the illusion of a twisted bun instead of just pinned back short hair, his hands taking their time over the soft skin of her neck and brown tresses. Mouser chuckled, catching on, looking at him through the mirror.

"These are lovely. And the pants... But the dress…" She glanced at the great amount of dark, silver threaded grey silk with black highlights in the closet and shuddered. The demon found it amusing that she displayed more fear towards the dress than she had to anything else so far. His hands slid down her back and adjusted the lacing with a few tugs, tightening the bow resting on the small of her back. Mouser gave a few curt gasps at each tug, the last one succeeding in breaking her balance and making her lean on her heels against him. Sebastian's arms went around her waist, allowing her to steady herself.

The thief huffed, slapping his hand, muttering in annoyance, going from a smooth posh accent to the rhyming slang to a few words in Gaelic peppering the string of foul expressions.

"You'll only have to wear it in the off chance the Young Master deigns to attend a social party. Otherwise this will be your uniform." The fit was now perfect as it should be. The spares would also have to be adjusted but that could only be made when she wore them… "Do you have room for your concealed weapons?"

"Various. I could also stop using some of those depending on how easy it is to reach the others with the holsters you mentioned." Mouser started to roll her sleeves, folding them carefully around her elbows. "Should we start dinner?" She asked, showing him his stolen clock, opening it with a flick, checking the time.

Sebastian smiled taking the heavy silver away pocketing it once more.

"Of course." He opened the door, allowing her to walk out first.

* * *

The bed was undone but the covers were folded at the bottom of it and the sleeping clothes spread over them. Aerating the bedding it seemed. Nothing else looked out of place, the closet door closed, the trunk with her weaponry placed at the corner, the ones selected for the day-to-day use placed on the nightstand. Sebastian had knocked as propriety dictated and when no answer came from inside the butler had opened the door. He half expected her to be deeply asleep and as contrary to waking up and leaving the covers to get something done as every other human so far. In the main house more often than not had to wake up the other servants… That grated a sigh out of him as he closed the door and walked towards the kitchen.

Sebastian found Mouser sitting on the bench at the table, legs crossed, the booted foot bobbing softly, the back door opened to allow more light within the room, reviewing what seemed to be a list quickly scribbled in an scratch of paper, a stack of notes and letters by her side, the hair comb on top of them, a mug in hand, the cigarette on her lips, humming to herself as she reread the words.

Working?

"Mornin' Sebastian." Mouser smiled, turning to him on the bench when she noted his presence, placing the mug on the table, shaking the ash into a chipped cup he had tossed away last morning, placing the white cylinder inside, blowing the silvery smoke to the side. Already dressed, the sleeves rolled out of the way, new ink staining her fingertips, the fountain pen sitting harmlessly by her side.

"You're an early riser." The demon noted. Odd. Quickly Sebastian checked the time before giving his attention back. A list of names was placed next to her. All noble or bourgeois families. It had to be the dwindling party invitations, the last attempts of merriment of the Season. A note from Lau was separated from the pile. Then there was heap with the Funtom company related correspondence. The papers were separated, from sensation press to the more serious news of the Times. And a simple brown package with the leathersmiths' store symbol was placed a bit further away.

"I was trained to be so. Much as I dislike it." Mouser chuckled, the shadow of memories carefully concealed behind the easy smile. "You don't sleep do you?"

"That is a considered luxury to one such as I." He picked up the package and opened it, checking the contents for flaws. They were acceptable. "These are for you." He gave her the belts and holsters. "Keep at least your daggers with you at all times hidden under the sleeves when guests are present."

"Aye, aye." Mouser stood slowly, moving towards the room, taking the new implements with her, the footsteps echoing softly against the floor.

Sebastian started the breakfast preparations once again, restarting the routine. She returned a few moments later, the sheaths strapped by small belts to the outer side of her forearm, sleeves still not covering them, the handles of the flat daggers a bit past her wrists. The sleeves would easily hide them. Judging from the time and the slight trace of steel mixing with her scent she had at least a dozen more pocket knives and, most likely, a pair of gambler's guns in her person now. The scent of gunpowder was too faint.

"Do you need any help?" He shook his head calmly, allowing her to return to her seat, turning, placing a small black appointment book in front of her. Mouser opened it, examining the entries. It was the logs of the Young Master's teachers, classes, appointments, contacts… One of his responsibilities to be shared with her. The pen scratched a few more things on the makeshift list, adding as she picked up the cigarette once more. "Lau sent a message mentioning the Lamb. I'm thinking it has something to do with the why you're in London."

"The Lamb?" Sebastian encouraged, placing a plate in front of her with toast, smoked salmon and a bit of cottage cheese with herbs. Mouser stared at it for a moment, frowning, like she had done every single time he placed food in front of her. She tilted her head slightly, almost as if debating if she should accept or not.

"Brothel. Heard rumours about it having some rooms dedicated to opium which would be a breach on the deals with the Chinese and the boyo." Mouser huffed, picking up the fork, poking at the salmon. Sebastian smiled. Less need for him to nose around if she knew what was being said. "Quite recently in fact. Sweetness wouldn't be this stupid. She died a few weeks ago. Client kill." Mouser snorted. "Maybe she was in the way."

"Today's duties will revolve around the opium den and dismantling it." Sebastian organized the platter.

"It's on Green's turf. If anyone is responsible it has to be him… No Madam would do it without gang support. Unless she was not very bright."

* * *

There was a very subtle underlying layer of harassment that faded away to even more subdued levels while maintaining its vein as soon as the boyo was completely focused, giving way to a somewhat servile but still aloof brand of service. From the greeting, to the curtains, to the tone. Mouser watched with a slightly raised eyebrow, keeping silent as instructed, the appointment book in hand and lips closed into a line, maintaining her smile a bit restrained, standing next to the now opened window, watching as Sebastian served the tea, his voice smooth and calmly weaving through the room.

Charlotte had been the one in the orphanage that could do that and get away with it. She had a way of looking so innocent while giving the headmistress tea boiled with crickets, coal dust in the scones' blueberry jam and allowing the fire in the office to gutter out, chilling the old hag. There was a never ending list of pranks Charlotte had pulled and gotten out of. Nowadays she was one of the Fashionable Impure, a courtesan with amassed wealth, beauty and a blackmail list three miles long. They still kept in touch as old accomplices although Mouser tended to avoid her due to the unfortunate tendency Charlotte displayed towards dressing her like a doll.

"Good morning." Mouser chuckled slightly, clearing her voice when the boyo's attention shifted towards her, blushing a bit, snuggling into the covers sharply. "Sebastian informed me that you have no scheduled lesson for today. This morning you have to appraise the correspondence for the Company and give your yes or no to the invitations that arrived so I can forward the letters." The thief checked her list quickly and nodded. Not a busy day. Too much to do at night. "I'll leave you to get dressed and have you breakfast."

"Read the invitations and be ready to summarize them." Ciel ordered, sipping his tea, his eyes on his new pawn.

"Aye, aye. I'll be in the study then." Mouser smiled softly, unbothered by the unveiled contract mark in his eye, lowering her head in a nod, leaving with a slight saunter on her step.

"Still giving you no trouble?" Ciel asked, turning his face slightly as Sebastian placed the clothes on the bed, helping him into them.

"Surprisingly it is so." He answered truthfully. As a servant of the Phantomhive she was at least more housebroken than any of their other… idiots.

"And your goal?"

"It is a bit early to try making a covenant with her." Sebastian looked towards the study, eyes narrowing. Even if she seemed accepting so far there were still some hurdles to be tested and some more work he needed to weave around her before Mouser fell into his hands. The promise of power seemed to be lacking its usual persuasiveness.

* * *

"How long is this going to take?" Ciel grumbled from the corner of the alley, dressed as himself, the cape covering his body heavily, face hidden in the shadow of his top hat, peering into the lit entrance of the Lamb, his expression dour.

Mouser huffed a wisp of smoke and turned a page of the salacious romance that was the new rage. After the letters and financial reports had been dealt with the Earl had decided to go in a shopping trip. Apparently one of them had noticed her interest in the book when walking past the book store and its massive line of female customers.

The military style double breasted cape-jacket hid her weapons neatly as she leaned against the wall, standing close to the boyo as instructed. Mouser marked the page, glancing at him with a smile, blowing a billowing cloud into the air deliberately, peeking too, taking his hat off, placing it on her head and using his head as a support for her chin, hugging his shoulders. Ciel was fuming but said nothing of it for the moment.

"Not much I'd say." Carefully she slipped out a watch from the cape and checked the time, allowing him to see it too. "He goes in, looks fancy and gets the trust of the Madam. Should be quick, he's glib enough. Gets shown the smoke rooms. Then gets us and we get Green." Mouser pocketed the watch once more. "Comfortable there boyo?"

"Don't touch me so freely." He growled but made no gesture against her.

"Then don't look so defenceless." Mouser whispered against his ear, pulling him towards the dark as a pair of males passed by, staring at the spot where they had been and now seemed gone from. "They have been eying you for the last ten minutes. Now they're convinced you're just another snooty overly cautious noble customer out for a good time." Her arms loosened around him and his hat was placed once more on his head as Mouser tossed the spent cigarette onto the cobblestones and stepped on it, resuming her reading. In the dark.

"Forgive me for keeping you waiting." Sebastian said suddenly, standing too near, his heath touching her cheeks, startling both of them. Mouser groaned, closing the book she had almost dropped. The good steamy bit was coming and now he chose to arrive?

* * *

"This is Green's house." Mouser stopped, pointing towards an apparently normal residence on the other side of the street, between a group of similarly built brick places, the lights blinking faintly behind darkened panels of dirty glass, lighting a cigarette placed on her lips with a click of the steel lighter, hands sliding out of the cape through the slits cut on the fabric for such a purpose, placing it on a pocket once again. The light shone for a second, the fire touching the tobacco, turning it into an ember.

It was dark and the fog was clouding the streets even further. She blew the smoke forward nonchalantly, mixing it with the ambience, sliding her arms under the cape once more. For the end of summer it was slightly chilly.

It was Green's doing after all, the new Madam of the Lamb one of his favourites, pliable and dumb enough to think he was all powerful and fold quickly into the scheme. The boss supplied the opium through back channels Lau had thought long closed, and had done little to distance himself from the operation, focusing solely on profit, providing minimal security despite the risks. The boyo had sent a message to the Chinese as they left the brothel street. They were going to Green's, kill his guards, interrogate the man, locate the storehouses and torch the operation. Simple enough.

Mouser exchanged a look with Sebastian who had been eying the building with the same serene expression as ever. He tilted his head slightly towards her as they waited Ciel's orders.

"Do you know more about it?" Ciel asked, staring forward, his eye narrowed as he tried to pierce the fog.

"I've never been in it seeing that his turf was not close to Jack's and he never hosted a meet. Even so it shouldn't be too different of a normal house." Mouser turned slightly, hands under the cape touching the handles of her daggers. "He'll have guards. Two are always at the windows of the upper floor." A group of drunken man walked by them, making noise, laughing and singing. "They might have already spotted us but with this fog we may appear as harmless as those drunkards. Or not appear at all."

"At least twenty men." Sebastian added.

"Crowded… But with his line of business it was to be expected some paranoia." Mouser smiled, taking the cigarette away from her lips, making a few rings. "Especially if you're going to bark at his door, neh boyo?"

Ciel grunted, hiding his sudden annoyance. He closed his eye for a moment then looked towards the two black clad figures he had with him, sternly. One tall and imposing. The other almost as short as he was.

"You two, this is an order: Capture Green."

Mouser smiled. Sebastian grinned, bowing slightly, one hand against his chest.

"Yes, my Lord." He said deliberately slow, an amused gleam in his red eyes. He moved, picking up Mouser suddenly, lifting her easily off the ground. She managed out a muffled squeak, her expression turning to a moment of alarm as he propped her against his shoulder, the arm under her bottom, purposely holding her a bit unbalanced.

"Comfortable?"

"You trice cursed berk of a bloke." Mouser grumbled, crossing her arms over his head, sighing, placing her chin over her wrists, refraining from squirming, blushing slightly, looking pointedly away. "Thinkin' upper entrance?"

Sebastian said nothing before jumping, both fading into the fog.

Ciel groaned and lowered his head. _Barking at his door, _was it?He huffed in mild amusement as a crack of wood and shingles echoed throughout the streets.

* * *

The guards were looking up, startled, guns in hand without shooting when the ceiling cracked and collapsed, allowing them an entry point. Sebastian straightened, looking around quickly. Mouser had disappeared suddenly as soon as her feet touched the wooden boards of the attic's floor even before the mist of broken wood and accumulated filth settled. There was a sudden grunt behind him as a life faded away, the slight click of heels letting him know Mouser was on the move, before the men started screaming for reinforcements and the bullets were shot.

The demon drew the silver knives and the fight began.

* * *

Mouser killed the sentinel by the stairs quickly with a jab of the knife, pushing the body away, avoiding the blood, deftly unbuttoning most of the cape, leaving only the raised collar closed to allow freer movements, jumping down to the first floor, crouching, looking around quickly before hiding when the reinforcements started to pour out of the rooms, startled, going up, stomping along with enough noise to wake up the whole neighbourhood.

Only one of her knives was out and her free hand was touching the gun that was holstered on her thigh carefully, waiting for a few moments before moving.

Green was like so many others… he got the money and tried to put on airs, creating a life of luxury inside a house modified to be a fortress. Which meant he was in a room in-between soft sheets and plump feathery pillows, forgetting his thuggish roots. Paranoia would drive him deep down and probably that house had escapes built in, leading to the Thames or into other people's basements and wineries, to the under-London labyrinth.

Mouser ran down the main set of stairs barely looking at the men she shot or stabbed out of her way, gunning for the basement before the commotion reached further down and made their prey escape. Although he would be the kind of man that would wait until the last moment, to always have the last word and threat in victory and defeat. She barged into the basement suddenly, catching a glimpse of the startled Green amidst the brocade of a duvet, sitting up from what appeared to be a deep slumber, stabbing the bodyguard that had advanced first on the throat, sidestepping the blood, drawing one of the guns, shooting the brute further away on the chest before turning to Green, pointing the smoking gun. He was just a terrified man in his sleeping gown for the moment. Hadn't reached for any of the pistols hidden amongst the luxury.

"You're… Jack's Mouser…" A flash of recognition crossed his face although it was heavily mixed with confusion as he scrambled under her aim. The a flash of something more, a blooming hope made her drop the gun and reach for the second dagger, turning suddenly as the order snapped, the man diving for cover and possibly some sort of armament. "Kill him"

Mouser's eyes narrowed in mid movement, recognition kicking in, slowing down, stopping short when Sebastian grabbed her wrists, smirking. She sighed lowering her head with a small shake. Both blades were pointed at his stomach in what should have been a horizontal slash.

"Buggering bloody hell you daft tosser…" She cussed twisting out of his grip, sighing once again, sheathing both daggers after shaking the remnants of blood of the right one, recovering the gun, holstering it too. "Almost spilled you innards." She blew a sigh sideways almost rolling her eyes.

"That is Green." Sebastian confirmed, pulling her closer, one arm around the waist, patting her head. Mouser hissed and tried to shake his hands away.

"Aye." She gritted out when the demon finally let her go. "Shouldn't you be getting the boyo?"

"I am already here." Ciel walked down the stairs, occupying one of the armchairs without a glance towards the bodies, adopting a relaxed slouching stance as Sebastian illuminated the room.

"You opened the door, didn't you?" Mouser grumbled, looking pointedly towards the butler. Then she shrugged and slid the cape off, sitting on the chair arm, crossing her legs, leaning back with a tired sigh, lighting a cigarette, waiting.

Green scrambled away, stopped by a bedpost, shivering like a young tree in a storm.


	4. Chapter 4

Delivering Green was a hassle but that would put the rest of the responsibility in Lau's back so the Earl of Phantomhive could return to his mansion and, according to the boyo, have some peace. Sebastian carried the unconscious man without looking like he was making any kind of effort through the darkened streets, the carriage being something that would draw too much attention to their movements. Mouser tagged along at a sedated pace, walking side by side, serving as the guide of their little expedition.

The man had been unwilling to talk at first, as Ciel started his carefully prepared questions, trying to reach for a gun hidden under one of the trunks at the bottom of the bed, until she broke both his index fingers. Hard to pull a trigger without them. Or even hold a knife. Mouser had done it out of habit, chuckling a bit self-conscious when both demon and master stared at her with way too interested looks.

Then he sang without further interrogation or insistence on their part perhaps hoping to buy his freedom.

The boyo had returned to the mansion, Sebastian had helped him into bed with all the butler dictates and Mouser had been sitting in the kitchen, watching the prisoner while cleaning and prepping the weapons she had used. Green had been unconscious for the last hour and a half or so. And there was the downright scary the habit Sebastian seemed to be developing… interrupting her reading just when the heroine was about to be blissfully ravished, making her jump out of the chair when a slow deliberate breath moved lazily against her neck, just bellow the earrings.

"It's down there." Mouser stopped in front of a darkened arch, by the waterfront, looking at the stairway whose abrupt curvature hid the path from prying eyes. Another alley, another dead end most would think. "Lau and his lap-girls are usually in the main room, near the back. Not one for leaving the den unattended, I've heard" After a few steps down Chinese lanterns illuminated the stairs, guiding the clientele towards a closed door, deep down. "Have you ever been?"

"Usually Lau tends to appear at the mansion or the manor quite randomly. The Young Master rarely felt the need to look for him." Sebastian leaned, opening the door. Mouser chuckled entering the dark, misty and hot atmosphere, crossing the room calmly, ignoring the smoke, the dazed men lounging on their mats, corners or divans and the offers of opium. "And you?"

"Lau is one of the mafia bosses, one of the powers of the streets. The gangs have to thread carefully." Mouser shrugged as they reached the Chinese that lounged about with a pipe and eight girls. "Especially the ones based here, near the East End."

"Ah… it's the butler and…" Lau stared for a moment as Sebastian placed Green on the floor, blowing a billowing cloud of pale smoke, idly examining her. Then the Chinese chuckled. "Jack's kitty." He announced with a happy tone. The girls moved a bit, giving Lau room to conduct his business as he leaned, his attention shifting towards the one that had challenged his rule and the Phantomhive's decisions. RanMao remained, looking over her shoulder, sitting idly on the Chinese's' lap.

"Meow." Mouser deadpanned, crossing her arms with a sheepish smile, exchanging a small look with the usually unemotional RanMao. He had been one of the first outsiders to notice maybe because he was not as an airhead as he acted or maybe because he was used to noticing girls. And act accordingly much to Jack's chagrin and the onlookers' disgust. And Mouser's distress. But it was all play and he could be dissuaded by a couple of slaps on the questing hands, usually shaking it off as a joke.

"Ah a man such as him…" the Chinese adopted a menacing posture, moving to examine the unconscious former gang leader. "To try such a deed…" Lau scoffed, giving the pipe to one of his girls, turning towards them once more. "Who is he again?"

* * *

Mouser stretched softly, sighing tiredly, walking in tiptoes to avoid any loud noises from the heels, before starting to unbutton her cape, disappearing into the corridor, going into the room that was given to her. It still felt odd. And big. In the other house there should be at least a couple of maids to fill it out, shouldn't it? Because as much as sharing a sleeping place made her think of the orphanage it was better than to look upon the empty bed next to her and think of the second Wednesdays of each month. She was out the boots, holsters, assorted pocket knives and placing the waistcoat on the empty bed when the soft knock on the door called her, discreetly and quietly.

Sebastian stood there, waiting when she slid the door open. Most likely he had finished the rounds, locking doors and checking for intruders. They stared at each other for a moment in silence, keeping the appearances, the masks they wore for Phantomhive's benefit. A couple of days and he was… The butler reached for her, leaning slightly, cupping her face in his palm possessively, sliding into her room, closing the door silently behind him, the free arm looping around her waist, leaning back, dragging her to him. He was no longer wearing the outer jacket or the tailcoat and the fabric under her palms was soft and warmed by his skin.

"You behaved beautifully." Sebastian whispered against her ear, dragging his voice out slowly, playing with her earrings, creating a rhythm, a soft hypnotic chime.

"I'd thank you if I didn't think you are plotting something." Mouser started with nonchalance, her fingers tightening on the shirt as she shifted, trying to break his grip, before mewling softly, lowering her head slightly as he kissed her neck suddenly, feeling a blush creep over her cheeks, forehead touching his chest.

"Plotting?" Dark, playful in tone, moves as sharp and abrupt that left her disoriented... And there was suddenly the bed under her and a demon on top. No gloves. A mark over the back of his left hand. Black nails. His hands tugged her shirt, trapping her arms on the sleeves, exposing more of her skin. The soft tug of silk around her neck as he pulled her choker free, the ribbon hanging loosely after tightening almost painfully before disappearing entirely, leaving a ghost of a caress behind.

Mouser bit her lip slightly, blinking in surprise, gulping a gasp.

Sebastian smirked, his eyes glowing like darkened embers.

A touch of sin, a hint of darkness. A prey captured without surrender. Wicked innocence, pure corruption. Tossed into the darkness she accepted it. Faced with despair she fought. Death touched her scent as deeply as the tobacco she was fond of, leaving its mark. Allure. Hunger. Sebastian placed a consuming kiss on her lips, sliding the loosened hair away from her face, the faint clink of silver against the floorboards giving away the comb's presence.

The sound she made was small and feminine, teetering on the edge.

But she turned away from the precipice, just a bit as they parted.

The price for the power he offered was her body, something, possibly the only thing, she had managed to keep safe from the life she led. And a surrender of the freedom she gained. So Evelyn hesitated. She leaned against him, embracing him softly, freeing herself from the bind he had placed her in with the shirt, closing her eyes.

So close… Sebastian let out a small frustrated snarl even as revelled on the game.

"I'm not doing a grand job in resisting temptation am I?" Mouser whispered belatedly against his ear, letting go.

"You are not meant to resist." The demons answered, allowing her that small independence, leaving.

* * *

"You're quiet." Ciel noted harshly, bored, examining the woman sitting in front of him. Mouser looked up from the correspondence that held her attention, eyes narrowing slightly as she focused on him. There were no real marks of the night she had spent working. Maybe she was just used to it…

"I'm not used to chatter." She chuckled apologetically, sliding a strand of hair away from her face, slowly, placing the papers on the carriage's seat carefully pilled, one hand over them so the shaking would not send them to the floor. "Did you want anything boyo?" They had already reported the nights' events and assured him everything had been taken care of. The carriage moved smoothly towards the main house and London was long behind them. They should be arriving shortly. Then she had to check the mail delivered at the main manor, concoct a schedule so the day would not be wasted, meet the rest of the servants, memorize names and plan a few escape routes in case of major emergencies. And unpack.

"Nothing really." He looked out the window. "I know of your past." He mentioned.

"How lovely." Mouser smiled vacantly her doe eyes the picture of perfect innocence.

"How was it?" The Earl asked softly, genuinely curious. Few knew what happened behind the doors of an orphanage although most ladies chose one of such houses as the recipients of their charity. Even he had some connections to those kinds of works. It was needed for the Phantomhive's image. Even if from time to time sensation press caught wind of some odd occurrence and made a grand story out of it. Then all the noise faded and the Headmistresses, Masters, Nuns and Priests did as they liked.

"Hell must be nicer because if you go down there at least you did something to deserve it." Mouser sighed and looked out. "Besides being born, I mean." She crossed her legs, chuckling slightly as if her words were some sort of private joke, leaning back. "I can tell you stories, if you want..." She frowned suddenly, tilting her head towards the window. "I smell smoke."

"Don't tell me…" Ciel started to say, twisting, trying to get a better look of the mansion that began to peek around the bend.

* * *

It was a very nice mansion even if the west wing seemed to be smoking quietly, the roof caved in. Fuming was also the boyo, standing next to her as they got out of the carriage, gripping his cane a bit too tightly although that didn't stop him from turning around, offering her help. Trained gentleman and all.

Mouser placed a cigarette on her lips out of habit as she looked around, taking in the gardens' the façade, the fountain, the sheer size and imposing view, fishing for the lighter placed in the holster that sat against her left thigh, lighting the white cylinder quietly.

Sebastian had hopped down the driver's perch with measured gracefulness, opening the carriage's door for the young master, looking around too, appraising the situation, and sighed, staring at the damage with a knowing frown. Neither of them seemed surprised by the ruined wing but the dismay was almost palpable. Granted it was not the scenario anyone would prefer when returning home but they seemed to be under-reacting. Or…

"I know this silence. It's the _someone is going to die_ tension." Mouser mumbled softly, looking up towards the open windows, taking a deep breath lacing it with silvery smoke, smirking. There was a sudden shrill scream as a trio of people came running through the imposing front door. A tall dirty-blond haired man, wearing the trappings of a chef, a young blond man with a straw hat and an auburn haired woman in a maid dress. Mouser quelled the sudden flinch and gun patting that usually answered such situations, watching. They had to be the house servants… well… the calling for the boyo certainly gave that away.

Sebastian sighed again, taking the stage, his face turned into a smiling mask of severely tested patience. The thief blinked softly, looking away, getting a sudden shiver down her spine. The servants stopped suddenly, caught in fright, babbling their tale in a high pitched screech. It was just so… odd.

"Mouser. Follow me." Ciel snapped, turning his back on the situation, going around the pantomiming servants, going up the stairway without a backwards glance. Mouser looked away and shrugged.

"Aye, aye." She murmured, picking up the papers from the coach, following the Earl into the large entrance hall, looking around with an appreciative expression as the closed door muffled the noise outside. Another servant, an elderly man awaited for the boyo, greeting him with a stoic expression, taking his thin summer jacket, informing him quickly and quietly of whatever he felt was needed. Mouser greeted him with a small hasty curtsy as she followed the Earl through the halls, taking notice of the layout. It was an automatic thing.

Even though the scent of burnt wood and singed stone permeated the walls, despite the open windows and doors to ventilate the area, it was still a magnificently massive place. It also seemed to mirror the boyo's gloominess. The study was relatively free of the scent of smoke when they entered, closing the door behind them. Ciel sat behind the desk, rubbing his forehead, the look of annoyance still plastered on his features as Mouser crossed the room, opening window, the white lace curtains billowing in response, looking for a moment at the gardens and greenhouse behind the mansion, sitting on the windowsill, allowing her smoke to drift outside.

"Even in such a short amount of time…" the boyo grumbled suddenly, making her look back inside.

The place seemed to suit him, done in calm neutral colours and simple and clean geometrical patterns, a green and pale brown, almost bronze patterned carpet covering the wooden flooring, the shelves meticulously organized. Some paintings adorned the walls behind the desk and next to the door. There was a small fireplace with a couple of armchairs and coffee table flanking it to the right of the desk and a round table to the left, most likely used for tea preparation.

It was the Head of the House's sanctuary and the first place a thief such as her would search for blackmailing papers. Surprising how many nobles kept diaries and ledgers unprotected in their desks.

"You still seem calm." Although explosions and fires were not part of the Phantomhive household everyday they were still common enough. And the antics of the servants were one of the things that tested Sebastian's abilities, something he enjoyed toying with, despite all the troubles resulting of it.

"You don't have a fainting chair in here so I'll restrain my hysterics." Mouser stood, tossing the dead butt of her cigarette into the fireplace, going around the writing table, picking up the papers and separating them quickly, turning three of the new eight piles towards him.

"Does nothing ever faze you?" The Earl moved, placing his elbows on the table, leaning against his interlacing fingers, examining the woman carefully.

"Do you want to make a game out of it boyo?" Mouser challenged with a smile, patting the papers with one finger. "These just need signing."

"Very well." Challenge accepted Ciel mused, measuring his adversary, a smug grin cracking his frown before picking the quill.

"Using Sebastian is an invalid move though. Would be too easy." Mouser poked his nose playfully. The boyo grumbled in annoyance at her gesture but didn't slap her hand away or shouted about touching. It was progress. "Read these. Then decide."

"Young Master…" Sebastian opened the door quietly after knocking, a quick glance grasping the situation. "It's settled. So, if I may." Sebastian waited for her calmly. Ciel barely made a gesture of dismissal, his attention shifting towards work. Mouser straightened and followed the butler.

The corridors took them to the servant's quarters, a door closing behind them cutting off the luxurious part of the house, giving way to a more simple and practical space. The scent of smoke was more intense there the green and white walls darkened by sooth that descended into a hallway of doors. Kitchen, laundry, rooms... some men moved around, carrying materials. The repairs were underway already.

Mouser would explore the house in detail later on for the sake of sleeping easily.

Sebastian opened the door to the kitchen, entering. The servants gathered around the table jumped suddenly, standing up rather nervously, looking around, checking if there were no misplaced sounds or intruders before examining her acutely. At least the man in the chef's uniform did in a way that was vaguely… military. Weapons first, body, then eye contact. The younger blonde was smiling happily, giving her a shy wave. The woman adjusted her glasses slightly, her expression dazed behind the lenses.

"Everyone… As I said earlier the Young Master hired another servant." Sebastian turned slightly towards her, waiting. Mouser took a few steps forward, allowing them to see her a bit more clearly, keeping her hands still, arms limp. There was one missing, the elderly man. Perhaps surveying the outsiders working on the damage. One could never be too careful. Newcomers were usually the ones that brought a chance for a spy to be infiltrated.

They all sported a slightly surprised look now. Maybe it _was_ the weapons because after Sebastian had presented her as part of the staff they immediately relaxed their guarded stances.

"It's quite a pleasure to meet you all." Mouser smiled, drawing on the hours of forced etiquette, eyes darting for a moment at the blackened walls, to the corridor door, the narrow windows, the door towards the outside. "My name is Evelyn Crows, although most people call me Mouser." They looked a bit livelier, as if they were about to welcome her, speak, mention their names but Sebastian interrupted after checking his clock.

"She will be working as the Young Master's secretary. Sebastian glanced at the maid who snapped straight immediately. "And will be sharing the room with Meyrin." The woman stammered an acknowledgement. "Show her to the room and then tend to your tasks." He turned to Mouser as he left. "You can take the rest of the day off."

There was a sigh of relief from the servants as he abandoned the room, all of them turning towards Mouser. Respect and fear for the butler. And maybe guilt because of the fire. Mouser chuckled a bit, relaxing too. Even if they didn't know instinct still worked.

"Name's Baldroy, but call me Bard." The chef introduced himself placing a cigarette on his mouth, an easygoing grin readily parting his lips, his accent definitely form the Americas, patting the uniform in search for a lighter or a match. Mouser tossed hers. He caught the steel trinket with fast reflexes of a trained man, nodding a thanks, igniting the flame. "So what's your story?"

"Orphanage." Mouser smiled and retrieved her lighter. Bard offered her a cigarette. The thief accepted, muttering a thank you, leaning against the table, lighting it too, slipping the steel lighter into its place once more, allowing the smoke to drift from her lips. "Street gangs."

"I'm Finny." The young man introduced himself with a bubbly smile, bright eyes locked on her. Mouser smiled back, before being hugged, her eyes widening in surprise. "Welcome home." There was more to his words, to his tone and the other servants seemed to be in tune with the meaning Finny was giving them.

"Thank you." She murmured, looking away, shyly, embarrassed, disentangling. But her body rebelled against her attempt at dignity, a yawn escaping. Meyrin chuckled. Mouser looked sheepish. "I'm sorry."

"You've got to be tired with the trip…" Meyrin supplied helpfully, smiling a bit. Mouser shrugged, putting out the cigarette in a clay ashtray on the table. "Come."

The walk upstairs was uneventful, just a quick navigation through the corridors, their boots echoing a bit over the wooden floor and stairs of the manor's secondary corridors, closed doors keeping her from finding out more about her new environment, the scent of burned masonry still permeating the air. The trunk was at the feet of the second bed, when the door was opened, a pile of fresh sheets and covers ready to be used along with a pillow resting on top of a bare mattress.

Mouser opened the container of her belongings without a glance at the dress that was already placed on the pointedly open closet, next to Meyrin's casual outfits, maids' uniforms and formal uniform, trying to decide between unpacking or making the bed.

"Do you need any help?" Meyrin asked peeking over her shoulder, adjusting the round glasses carefully.

"No. I'll manage..." Mouser placed the book, cigarettes and lighter on the nightstand and unstrapped the sheaths and holsters, shrugging them away from her forearms and shoulders so they wouldn't be in the way.

"Is this the new novel?" The maid picked the book up, excited, flipping some of the pages, cooing at the words after a brief pause as she browsed the chapter, adjusting the glasses, leaning further into the pages.

"Yes..." Mouser straightened, rubbing her neck a bit embarrassed, placing a boot on the bed frame, to reach one of the belts around her thighs. "You read them?" Another boot, and finally the belt was off, the holsters held around her waist only.

"I saved money for some of them..." The maid mumbled softly, closing it, taking a deep breath. "Could I borrow it when you're done?" Meyrin had turned fully towards her, leaning over the other female, holding the book like a shield and an offering, the unfocused eyes behind the glasses steely and determined.

"If you let me read the others..." Mouser smiled, nodding, unbuttoning the waistcoat after taking a few cautious steps backwards, a few of the pocketknives that rested in-between the garment and the shirt falling with a clatter, after getting the last belt free, placing all the pistols on the nightstand. Four guns, the two that would around her thighs and the two that rested on the small of her back, under the bow.

"Your uniform is rather pretty." Meyrin walked to the other side of the bed, determined to help. Mouser gave into the offer. It was done after a couple of mishaps. Neither of them seemed very adept at making beds or tucking in corners although it seemed more an issue of distraction than actual skill. "The Young Master was the one that gave me these." The maid smiled touching the glasses and the skirt, after the bedding was in place. It was obvious she liked them and even from a bit of the distance Mouser could see that it was something made form higher quality materials than the run-of-the-mill master would be willing to give. But then again the Phantomhive name carried a lot of weight and money even if its bearer was short and scrawny.

"Sebastian..." Mouser stopped in the middle of unbuttoning her shirt, frowning, the words dying suddenly. Sebastian had chosen her clothes... she looked down at the black lace of the garter belt peeking a bit over the trousers' fabric. Damn demon... She was wearing the unmentionables one might find in the drawers of a French cancan dancer but that made sense seeing no ladies' overly poufy and tight under-things would do with the trousers, shirt and vest. But they were... Mouser groaned and shrugged the shirt off, picking up the hip length chemise and the short bloomers she'd chosen as sleeping wares instead of the long, lacy and itchy nightgown. "Sebastian got them for me." She grated out. Every piece was lacy. And black. Not something a respectable lady would wear. Then again so were the trousers. Mouser had no actual complaints.


	5. Chapter 5

It did look different in the darkness and a couple of exploration trips had proven insufficient to grasp the whole layout, Mouser thought as her steps took her lightly through the corridors of the upper floor. Silent and mostly empty. Despite or maybe because of it, it was easy to navigate. She had divided her explorations into areas so each place would be thoroughly mapped. From certain areas like the servant's quarters, library and study she already had plans and several ways out. Living in the manor, working there still gave her a restless feeling. That and the demon that did not sleep lurking about to interrupt her reading habits. But never the actual work.

Autumn had started and the first rains created a muddy mess on the roads. The sound of water and wind whispered against the walls and windows further muffling the noises inside the walls. The hush was broken suddenly by a choked scream, a sleepy but terrified sound, muted into a series of curt gasps. The thief looked to her left, following her ear. The boyo's chambers… there were no other sounds that would explain the scream, the fear. Unless it was not physical nor an attack. With a sigh she turned the doorknob, slipping into the front room, avoiding the furniture while heading to the bedroom door, knocking gently.

"Boyo?" She whispered when all that answered her was a somewhat hushed sob. Mouser opened the door, peeking before entering. She smiled slightly as she noticed that his eyes were searching the darkness, also blinded by whatever had hunted him in his dreams. It was an expression she recognized too easily along with the bundle of protective covers around his body. So she moved carefully. The Phantomhive wouldn't be defenceless and she knew for a fact that there would be a pistol under the pillow. "You do know you're safe, boyo."

"Mouser?" His voice wavered slightly as he looked, the covers falling around his shoulders, undoing the hood. They were still twisted and tangled around his shoulders, making the boyo look smaller. The lost look in his eyes did not help. He was terrified but able to recognize her. Good. She approached the bed, lighting the candle that sat on the nightstand, closing her lighter with a sharp metallic click. As the small golden light flickered to life, making her squint, the boyo's blue eyes calmed, examining her. "What are you doing here?"

"Walking in the dark." She slid the lighter into its place, looking around, making sure that there was nothing more there. "May I sit?" Ciel moved a bit towards the centre of the big bed, suspicion alight in his eyes. The duvet followed with a rustle. Mouser sat over it, glancing at him silently, watching with interests as the scared boy disappeared into the stern face of the Earl of Phantomhive. Someone he could trust was with him. Usually that's all it took to dispel the fear. She smiled. His eyes narrowed at her. Mouser poked his forehead and pushed him back, towards the mattress and pillows, pulling the covers, straightening them over him, slipping his hair away from his face in a sisterly way. "Sleep boyo. Your day is very busy tomorrow." She stood, not touching the candle, walking towards the door.

"Do you have nightmares?" The boyo asked suddenly, staring at her, peeking over the duvet. Mouser stopped her movements, fingers playing with the metal of the door handle, looking over her shoulder.

"Every night." Mouser expression changed for a moment, the shadows the candle created dancing over her features as she sighed. "Leave the light burning. For most it worked although it never did keep the monsters at bay."

"Shouldn't you say there are no monsters?" Ciel said, chuckling, once again in control of himself, the sheets rustling as he snuggled deeper, getting comfortable.

"We both know it's not true and we met ours long before a demon showed up." She opened the door, walking out. "Goodnight Sebastian." Mouser whispered to the shadow to her left.

* * *

"Young Master." Sebastian's voice followed the soft knock as he opened the study's door. Mouser stopped writing for a moment, looking up, checking the grandfather clock a bit to her right. Should be… "Governess Addams is here for the violin lesson."

Right on schedule, she mused, slipping the to-do list from under the letter, making a note.

There was a long-suffering sigh as the Earl of Phantomhive stood, composed himself and left the room accompanied by his butler, abandoning the early work. He had decided to deal with the documents related to the company fast so he would have a free hour in his schedule. It was somewhat suspicious of him to be so eager but then again bouts of fancy came and went.

Mouser sighed too, stretching a bit when the door was closed behind the pair, staring at her stained fingers blankly for a few moments, flexing them, reading the document one more time, checking its flow and if the phrasing conveyed the boyo's intentions but not his actual words. Those had been a bit too acrid to put on paper. Probably would make the factory's manager cry and, while entertaining, it wouldn't be productive.

It was done, just needed to be signed and forwarded. She stood, placing the letter on the desk, checking his work quickly, picking up a cigarette from the case left by the armchair, opening the window as she lit it and retrieving her book, diving into the scene.

* * *

The Young Master was with Governess Addams at the moment, taking the violin lessons and despite the training the instruments from time to time still pleaded in anguish for him to stop. It was akin to the screams of the tortured, a lullaby of home. Not as often as in the past but Sebastian's ears were also keener, sharp enough to catch the mishaps.

Most of the butler's chores were done for the moment.

The demon checked the pocket watch quickly.

It was a small window of chance to pursue his prey.

Mouser was still in the study, reading, unaware of his presence as he intended, sitting on the windowsill so her smoke wouldn't stay inside. The dead butt of the cigarette was gone, burned in the fireplace. Sebastian moved quickly, avoiding detection, standing behind her for a moment. It was interesting he thought, analyzing his action. The curve of her neck enticed his predatory nature even though there was nothing deliberately seductive in that moment. Nor submissive. She was just looking down, her attention solely on the black and white of page and letters. His eyes glanced at the words as he leaned softly, breathing a puff of breath against her neck, under the earrings. The odour of tobacco was fresh on her skin. Even if it blended and was part of her scent it still served as a very effective mask. Sometimes it hid all too well what she was feeling. He was learning the nuances. It was an entertaining way to use his time when not fulfilling his obligations to the Young Master and waiting for her to stumble into what he offered.

The book jumped from her fingers suddenly, falling unceremoniously on the floor with a outwardly low thud in the empty room, accompanied by a startled, very minor gasp, her body arching away, defensively, hand reaching for the sleeve where the dagger was concealed, fingers barely brushing the hidden handle as Mouser half turned, her movement smooth and unbroken.

Reflexes and survival. He had triggered something that usually was kept dormant.

Sebastian moved quickly as well, stepping into her space, pulling her body against his, pinning her, one arm around her waist, hand firmly gripping her wrists behind her back, under the handles of both blades, interrupting her attempt to break away and fight. Even so the heel of her boot threaded harshly on his foot and she twisted and writhed. Silently.

Mouser took a deep breath suddenly, calming, thinking, glancing over her shoulder a bit warily and then chuckled, her breathing pattern in disarray, leaning back, her silver comb used to bump him a bit callously against the chest, while easing the pressure of her heel. Her first though had clearly been _enemy_, mind gone numb and body taking over, aggressively. She would not give up even cornered and pinned. Reassuring to know.

The demon's free arm slid over her front, around her chest, his hand curling around her throat, tilting her head back until she offered him her lips, watching as they parted in anticipation, eyes shadowed by desire, covering the irritation of his successful capture, the fear and aggression gone from her irises and scent.

Lust was a tool and a reward. Any demon knew so. Sebastian moved, his fingers leaving a light caress on her captured neck, brushing her jaw, her lower lip, feeling the light shiver against his body, another attempt to move, this time trying to get a bit closer, the wicked smirk on her lips growing slowly as mischief shone in her dark eyes, the tip of her tongue touching his thumb, nipping, pulling the glove. He moved his hand, allowing her to divest him of the piece of clothing, the fabric falling down next to her book.

Sebastian spun her around suddenly, pressing her back against the curtains, the wall behind the fabric solid, allowing his weight to rest against her, one arm still around her waist, pressing her intimately against him, enjoying the feeling, the sounds of her gasps and the frantic beating of her heart.

"As soon as I find my wits I'll insult you." Mouser whispered against his chest, taking another deep breath, the blush spreading over her cheeks, eyes closed. Sebastian chuckled, his fingers threading through her hair, dislodging the comb, cupping the back of her head, tilting her face, his lips meeting hers, satisfied with the warmth, by the sigh of pleasure breathed against him. She moved, tiptoeing to deepen the kiss, her hands seeking his hair too, locking them in a battle of tongues and teeth. He enjoyed the control, the claiming and the fact that she wanted to claim him, fighting to gain leverage while accepting the pleasure. Greedy human...

The sound of the doorbell echoing through the house broke them apart. Sebastian allowed her to go free. Mouser let out a breath, grabbing the curtains for balance.

"Indeed." The bitterness of the tobacco and the sweetness of the woman. Even if his sense of taste was different there were things that were easy to identify, to remember, to enjoy. Her scent betrayed her arousal, frustration and weakness. If he were to push now he would lose, make her harden her shell and her wariness. Sebastian straightened his clothes quickly and with a slight glance back he left to attend to the unannounced visit.

* * *

"Do you play chess, Mouser?" Ciel asked suddenly, looking up from his desk.

Mouser stopped her reading, putting the letters aside, staring. Mostly dry reassurances and reports. An occasional invitation. Notes from the underworld.

"No." She glanced at the clock. Almost tea time.

The weather outside announced plainly that summer had ended, the trees naked, the skies gray and the roads made of sticky cold mud. The boyo nodded slowly, closing his eye with a sigh. Mouser had been with the Phantomhives for the three weeks now. The house held no secrets, the servants were friends, Meyrin borrowing and giving her sensation books, Finny being a sweetie-boy, Bard sharing cigarettes and engaging in a game of poker every Friday night with high food, money and trinket stakes, Tanaka being a surprisingly insightful and helpful old man. Then there was the demon hunt.

"Come here. I could use the entertainment." Mouser chuckled as she stood, pulling the chair that was reserved for when a guest needed a hearing in the Phantomhive's study, sitting down quietly, crossing her legs, leaning against the cushioned back, getting comfortable.

Ciel set the pieces quietly, fishing out a small board from his drawer, taking the black army, fingers touching the ebony material softly, reflexively while his voice explained the rules tonelessly. Mouser watched the Earl, not the chequered board.

"The goal is to capture the king." The boyo finished. "The whites always start."

Mouser looked down at her options, sighing, cautiously pushing a pawn forward. The Boyo's black knight stirred. The game moved, her mind adjusting to the rules, annoyed by the lack of leeway, feeling a need for flexibility, a need to cheat and turn the tables. The clock ticked... and suddenly the small white pawn found itself within range of the black knight, and the black queen moved, taking it down, tumbling the piece, standing with it at its feet. The thief stopped, staring, looking up. Ciel leaned back, his expression closed. The captures were lean and the board was in disarray except for the king on his throne and those three pieces.

"A white pawn became the black queen." Mouser murmured out loud, letting the words sink. Ciel looked up, staring her down, waiting for a crack, playing yet another game. She kept her stoicism in place with a grin. No longer free, no longer hers, no longer powerless... no longer alone. Mouser allowed a sigh to come out, standing, picking up the mail one again, sorting the letters slowly, mulling. "You don't ask for little, do you boyo?" One of the letters caught her attention suddenly, the crest in the sealing wax deserving of attention. "The Queen seems to be calling."

* * *

Mouser lit a cigarette quietly snuggled into the chair, the new book opened between her hands, forgotten while waiting for the clock to strike five. The boyo was rereading the queen's missive, the rustle of paper cutting through the sounds of the rain and fire. He wanted to discuss the order with Sebastian, pry information and have him prepare for the trip. That a trip would be needed was the only hint he'd given her. But at the same time the boyo was willing to wait until 5 o'clock for tea and cakes while scheming.

It was a few minutes away.

* * *

"A trip? In this season?" Sebastian's knife slid easily through the Charlotte cake, producing a perfect slice carefully placed on its plate. Mouser followed it with wide eyes. Every time cake came into her line of sight she couldn't help but stare. It just looked so mouth-watering... the demon glanced at her for a moment as he placed the cake in front of the boyo, smirking when she looked away rather pointedly, preparing the tea, the scent of the Ceylon Dimbula warming the room.

"Sebastian, do you know of a practice called "bear baiting"? Ciel asked, appraising the food in front of him with a critical expression, picking up the silverware. Mouser adjusted her position and pulled a blank piece of paper ready for notes. The demon barely blinked or looked surprised, adopting a pensive expression, examining his master.

"The phrase has a most fun and pleasant ring to it. The truth, however, is quite different."

"The bears are tied up, whipped and have packs of wild dogs set upon them until, finally they are killed."

"That is so incredibly like humans"

"It was banned under the Cruelty to Animals act of 1835." Mouser huffed. "Do you have an opinion?" Ciel turned to her, attracted by the sound.

"Still happens. They are just very careful about where the rings are set." She scribbled a bit. "Nowadays they do prefer to see two grown men bleed while pummelling each other with bare fists. And bears are hard to get."

It was a reality the boyo nodded to acknowledge, shifting his attention back to Sebastian. It was something that the Scotland Yard should deal with if it was taking place in London. His instructions were a bit different.

"However a loophole remained." Ciel continued cutting into the cake, talking with measured tones, pacing the words. "If the bullying dogs were not goaded what would happen?"

"It would become a case of one animal bullying another." Sebastian answered, cutting another slice of the cake, placing it in the small table in front of Mouser. She stared at it for a long moment, eyes narrowing at the berries. "Animal bullying so to speak." He finished, straightening, taking his place solemnly in front of the boyo, waiting politely for his master to continue,

"There is a village where they do that. Houndsworth. It is famous for raising hunting dogs. However, beneath that it has another side..." Dog fighting most likely. Mouser shook her head slowly, picking up the cake as soon as she was sure it would not be stolen, licking a bit of cream from her fingertips. "This wrenches at her majesty's heart therefore we are to investigate this village under the pretext of making it her resort. That's the true goal of this trip.

Resort... Investigate properties, the landowners, the village itself... She made another note, looking for the Phantomhive's man of affair's name in the book Sebastian had given her. Documents should be prepared... Ciel gestured at her. Mouser stood, retrieving one of the papers, glancing at it. Some additional notes about the place prepared by the Queen's aides.

"A village of dogs huh?" Sebastian said slowly, his expression betraying a slight disgust. Mouser looked up from the paper, examining him, the clear emotion behind his voice somewhat at odds with the usual stoicism he displayed.

"What is it?" Ciel also noticed, staring at the butler, his expression dour.

"It was just that I had believed securing a resort location was somewhat beneath you, Young Master." The demon mentioned glibly, composing his posture once more. Mouser exchanged a look with the boyo, approaching Sebastian, showing him the letter.

"There is something else, a reason why I, the Phantomhive, must be the one to go to this Houndsworth village. There are quite a few people who were murdered or are missing. The population of the village has decreased by a third in the last ten years. Investigating and resolving this situation is one of the jobs I was given."

"Then I should make preparations." Sebastian said smoothly. "I expect we'll depart tomorrow." The butler bowed and moved away.

* * *

The roads were predictably bad but fortunately there was no rain while the two coaches trudged through the countryside. One would have been enough but the fear of a destroyed manor awaiting his return had made the boyo give orders that made all the servants come along. They were chanting merrily on the second coach, along with most of the luggage.

The boyo seemed to be calm, looking out, towards the bleak misty fields, sharing the coach that Sebastian drove with Mouser who was laying on her back, boots propped up on the frame, one arm under her head, the daggers peeking subtly from her wrists, the other holding the book above her eyes, the cape falling around her, touching the floor, partially covering one pair of pistols. Her other weapons were locked away. One didn't want to look too intimidating.

"They really are in high spirits. It seems they are thanking you, kind Young Master." Mouser couldn't keep a slight chortle in when Sebastian smoothly weaved that comment into the monotony of wheels and horses, looking towards the boyo whose face betrayed a slight annoyance. He was not going to justify his actions once again, refusing to be goaded but his anger quite transparent beneath the mask. Sebastian pulled the reins, stopping the horses. "This is the village entrance." He announced calmly.

Mouser groaned, taking her boots of their perch, twisting, feeling her bones snap into place with little creaks, sitting down, looking out.

"Bleak." She muttered, staring at the gnarled old tree with the iron collars placed like hangman's nooses and the remains of unlucky beasts at its roots. The other servants' reaction was less contained, a shriek of horror rising from the second coach. The thief leaned back, smiling, opening the book once more into the drama of the ruined young woman struggling to regain her honour while the boyo looked over his shoulder calmly.

"I forgot to mention it, but this is the planned construction site for the resort."

The dismay at that was almost palpable in reaction to the boyo's words. Mouser kept her smile in place, flipping the page. A creak in the fog made her duck, touching one of the guns but the unconcerned reaction of the demon behind her allowed Mouser to let the handles go, straightening, looking into the murky surroundings, searching. Finny recovered first from the sight of the unwelcoming entrance of the village, pointing towards a shadow pushing a baby-stroller, its features becoming more apparent the closer it got.

"First villager spotted." Finny announced cheerfully before jumping down the carriage, running towards the heavily dressed old woman. "I'll help you Ma'am."

"Y-you shouldn't Finny! If you're not careful the baby inside will be hu..." Meyrin shouted suddenly, worried, leaning on the coach's edge.

"What?"Finny forgot his strength suddenly, looking back to give his attention to the maid, completely lifting the stroller from the ground, panicking, dropping it, apologising loudly, arms up as a caught thief.

"Is the baby all right?" Meyrin asked franticly, worriedly only to gasp in shock. Bard followed suit, almost dropping his cigarette. Mouser peeked, grimacing, putting the story aside.

"And we've reached creepy." She murmured. A dog skeleton wrapped for a burial.

The old woman straightened the stroller, ignoring the shocked trio, tucking the fabric around the bones.

"You know... this little one was eaten by that..." Her voice proclaimed shakily as she moved away, starting some sort of song as the mists engulfed her.

Eaten? Mouser's thoughts echoed the servants' words. She looked up. Sebastian's expression was closed and serious as if he was concentrating in the song. The boyo was still looking towards the disappearing old woman. Mouser tapped on her daggers for a moment, her book ignored as the coach began to move once more.

The fog soon lifted as the sun rose up, the small village by the lakeside with its lord's mansion overlooking the place from the hill. At first glance it was average and peaceful. Dogs were jailed, dogs were moving around, dogs were being trained.

"Bending their wills through the carrot and stick approach instils obedience in them. Such a wonderful scene isn't it?" Sebastian mentioned as they passed the bucolic scene. And if the sarcasm in his voice was any heavier the coach would stop in its tracks with the axels broken.

"Isn't that what you're doing to me?" Mouser grumbled, reaching up, patting the demon's back without looking. She felt a subdued chuckle vibrate against her fingers, through the heavy outer coat.

"However the dogs themselves are to blame. Doing everything they can to court humans and gladly accept the collar around their necks. It is a completely unfathomable concept to me."

"And yet you're under contract to obey the boyo here." That made both males glare. Mouser smiled, tilting her head innocently, opening her book as an escape method.

"If you have anything to say then spill it. " Ciel ordered, his temper showing.

"Well then, heeding you words I shall. While I am quite a cat person I do not like dogs. Actually I detest them." Sebastian looked back smiling sweetly. Ciel arched an eyebrow.

"And you?" He turned to Mouser for either backup or a victim.

"Smelly, slobbery and bark up a storm when you're trying to burgle a home." Mouser surmised, closing the book giving up the attempt to move on with the plot, looking up with a blank face.

The boyo smirked suddenly, letting out a sudden bark, mocking them both.


	6. Chapter 6

There was single maid with white hair dressed in a modest dark lavender colour uniform and pristine white apron waiting for the coaches, looking up with big bright purple eyes at them while asking with a soft voice if they were the Phantomhive party, bowing daintily in respect, placing a kindly deferential smile upon her face as Sebastian opened the coach's door, helping the Young Master down.

"Welcome to Barrymore Castle. The master is awaiting your arrival." The maid said softly, straightening from her curtsy.

Mouser couldn't pinpoint exactly why but she disliked the woman almost immediately but the animosity was there, sudden and sharp. She picked up the leather briefcase that protected the documents she had organized and prepared along with the man of affairs and Sebastian, noticing that her reaction was not being shared by any of the other servants.

And she disliked the castle even more. It was not the decrepit looks nor the fact that the structure seemed out of a horror novel with bare stone, broken walls, ivy and blackened windows... She accepted Sebastian's hand, stepping down the metal steps, adjusting her cape, adopting the same face one would wear when bluffing at cards. It was something in its atmosphere. Then the interior was stiff, warlike, filled with a rather unhealthy taste for taxidermy. Almost nothing worth of stealing was displayed.

"This way please." The maid said, opening the door to the parlour, waiting for them to cross. Sebastian and the boyo looked around, at the decapitated and stuffed creatures mounted on the walls. Mouser's eyes darted immediately towards the windows and doors and then to the house's master. A burly dark haired man with brown eyes and sideburns, frowning as if the whole world met his disapproval.

The maid screamed, curling on the carpet, covering her face with her forearms as the long whip hissed, the man's voice raised in anger, over her whimpers.

"What's with the little Chihuahua? I was told to welcome the Queen's envoy!" He roared, the whip thrashing about, the room barely wide enough for the motion. Actually it was quite a miracle nothing was broken in the process.

"Chihuahua?" Sebastian muttered as the boyo's face lost its smugness into an open-mouthed look of shock. Mouser raised her free hand to her lips, covering a smirk. Then it disappeared as she focused on the man once again. He was dressed rather provincially. There was no strength in the whip. Just enough to make it crack but if he was truly applying any energy to it the woman's clothes would already be shreds and her arms a bleeding mess. A show then, a proof that his power was absolute over the lives of those that served him.

"Angela, are you not even capable of something as simple as that?" he kept shouting, the leather cracking.

"Sebastian." Ciel spoke the name authoritatively, a mild look of disgust crossing his eye. And Sebastian was suddenly there, grabbing the man's wrist, stopping the whip while still keeping the boyo's top hat safely stored on the crook of his arm.

"What are you doing, you Doberman? Are you trying to bite back at me? Let me go you" The man tried to break free to no avail, his eyes slightly widened, disbelieving the strength of the demon's grip.

"I am the one who ordered him." The boyo's voice rang out smugly, drawing attention, moving next to the chair and table. Mouser was immobile, standing behind him, holding the briefcase.

"What?" The man blinked a couple of times, not understanding.

"I'm assuming the letter was delivered. Evelyn?"

"It was written and sent according to the Young Master's specifications. There should be no reason for deeming your arrival or purpose as unexpected" She said softly as the boyo pulled the chair, placing his cane on the table, sitting down one arm over the padded wooden back, facing the man, nodding without glancing at her.

"I'm Ciel Phantomhive." He introduced himself as Sebastian allowed the man's wrists free and Angela scurried away undoubtedly to prepare the trappings for the obligatory tea.

"Are you saying this little toy poodle is the Queen's envoy?" The house lord seemed less than pleased at that information as he rubbed his wrist, still holding the whip.

"Are smaller dogs not acceptable to you Lord Henry?" The boyo asked smugly, staring unflinchingly at the man.

* * *

There was a small flurry of activity as they divested themselves of the jackets and capes.

Mouser organized the documents, going around the table, placing them in front or Lord Barrymore before returning to the boyo's side, standing straight.

The tea cart and Angela arrived moments later. Sebastian moved next to it, standing politely and quietly.

The thief watched out of the corner of her eyes as the maid's shivering hands reached for the cups, making the porcelain clatter. They were bruised but there was no way that it hurt as much as that. She had to serve tea and scones to the headmistress time and again while her arms were bleeding. Shivering and snivelling was not allowed. The blood in the tea was also not allowed but she couldn't help where it dripped now could she? Angela was either was faking it to garner pity or was just a wimp.

_Pity,_ the thief decide when Sebastian leaned in, taking over the tea serving duties after a quick whisper.

Barrymore tossed the papers onto the table, leaning back, arms crossed.

"This isn't even worth discussing." Sebastian placed the tea next to the boyo whose gaze was steeled. He neglected to do the same for the castle's Lordship in a deliberate slap to the man's social standing. It was not noticed by the dupe seeing as he was focused on the graver insult brought on by the boyo. "No matter what you propose, I am not willing to sell."

"State you reason." The boyo demanded coolly.

"The curse."

"The curse?" Mouser went around the table and picked up the papers, bowing her head slightly, returning to her spot, organizing them, placing them by the boyo's side quietly.

"In this village where man and dog live together since antiquity there is a curse against those who would try to get their paws on it. A fearsome hex." Barrymore stood up, placing beefy hands on the table, leaning forth menacingly. "Even if it were the queen that would not change." One hand pounded his own chest. "A terrible fate will befall anyone who tries to go against the Barrymore family in this village." He gestured widely for emphasis, the family rings gleaming.

Ciel smirked.

"Oh. How interesting."

"What?" Apparently Barrymore was not used to face resistance.

The boyo leaned back, clasping his hands together, eye closed.

"In that case I shall remain here for as long as it takes to witness this terrible fate" His eye opened, challenging, accompanied by his characteristic smirk. "firsthand."

The anger clearly distorted Barrymore's features, a growl building within his throat.

* * *

Mouser stopped on the staircase that led down to the kitchens after a survey of the castle, lighting a cigarette while eavesdropping, preparing to leave to check the surroundings.

"So, you're the only maid in this household?" Bard was saying, his voice cheerful as she opened the door, trying to keep it from creaking. The thief huffed, a short white cloud leaving her lips and disappearing, as she walked into the place discreetly. The cook was smoking as always, legs crossed, leaning against the table, gesturing widely, smiling.

"That's amazing! I truly respect you Miss Angela!" Meyrin praised, clapping her hands once, sitting with her back straight and legs properly placed. She was either mimicking the ingénue in front of her or just practicing her social polish.

Finny had his hands over his knees, curled into himself, in a shy position, looking at Angela as if she was some sort of goddess, bright eyes sparkling with altogether too much innocence.

"I am nothing so grand." Angela murmured in that soft voice that made Mouser feel a sudden need to be struck deaf. Or pluck the woman's tongue out. Either or. "I do nothing but make mistakes." She chuckled softly, charming the servants, her posture seemingly as shy as Finny's as the words flowed.

"If there is anything we can do to help you with please let us know." Bard announced. "Since we're all servants let us get along. Right Finny?"

Finny nodded enthusiastically.

"Yeah, of course!"

"How kind you all are..." A bell rang. Mouser looked at the board, finding the brass tag reading bedroom under the shaking bell. The maid stood up quickly, gasping. "Pardon me, the Master is calling, so I will have to take my leave."

"Must be hard. Almost quittin' time, pitch black outside, isolated from the village... and a brute of a master." Mouser whispered loudly while crossing the kitchen, towards the backdoor as the dress disappeared after the closing entryway that led to the castle corridors. Meyrin looked up suddenly, staring at Mouser's back, her eyes widening behind the glasses. She stood abruptly and began to run.

Mouser smirked and moved on.

* * *

"Sorry to barge in..." Ciel almost jumped from his chair, his book closing suddenly between his palms as Mouser's voice came from the window, the thief climbing in, leaning against the frame for a moment, catching her breath. Her hair was loose around her face, covering most of her features but leaving clear a stern expression, shoulders hunched forward, legs apart. She did look rather boyish that way, the un-tucked shirt and lack of waistcoat combined with the posture minimizing her curves. Then her expression shifted, she straightened and the look disappeared.

Mouser closed the window she had jimmied open and drew the curtains together once again. Sebastian had barely reacted while unpacking. That should have been a clue of the lack of hostility of the intruder. As instructed she had been snooping around, missing for most of the day.

"What do you have to say?" Ciel placed his book down on the armrest.

"This is a strange village. People believe wholeheartedly in this curse business. Also they were not too keen on talking. They changed their minds after a bit of acting." Mouser threw her arms around Ciel suddenly, her doe eyes widening and shimmering. "After all I wouldn't want my Young Master to be hurt so please tell me, help me give him a reason to leave, to keep him safe..." She said in a weepy vulnerable voice, laughing when the boyo thrashed in her arms, complaining about touching, allowing him to go free. "The curse chooses and the criminals it pointed are literally fed to the dogs. Quaint little tradition."

"Are there any outsiders in the inn?"

"None. No merchant, no traveller, no thief, no highwayman. And this isolated place would be a haven for them too. Highly unlikely for a copper to pursue this far..."

"And the maid?" Sebastian asked softly.

Mouser bared her teeth.

"I do not know why but every time I see or hear her I feel a murderous urge the kind I haven't experimented in..." The demon was smiling slightly. Mouser threw her arms up. "Gah." She hissed harshly. "But putting my dislike aside there is something off about her too. As long as anyone cares to remember the women of her family have served the Barrymores. But there is no mention, ever, to a man, a husband, a father. And all say she looks so much like her mother and quote _the kindest person I ever did see,_ unquote. Even as decrepit as this place is, it's impossible for a single maid to maintain. The way she was whipped..."

"She was whimpering and cowering in fear." Ciel noted. Mouser dismissed the words with a tongue click.

"Have you ever been whipped?" Mouser unbuttoned her shirt's sleeve, rolling it up, showing her forearm to Ciel. "This was made by a riding crop. Granted it's a bit different from the bullwhip but it's still the same principle. It will rip fabric and skin in moments. She withstood how many strikes? Not a single slash on the hands that were unprotected, not a single tear in her dress."

"And that tells us what?"

"On its own, nothing much. Then Meyrin talked to me a few moments ago. It seems his Lordship is..." She turned to Sebastian. "What is a polite way to say shagging the maid?"

"Involved with, I believe." Sebastian answered as he started to brush the Young Master's cape, chuckling when he noticed the vivid blush on the Earl's face.

"How dry. But there it is. Village is indoctrinated, isolated, the maid is involved with the Lordship and the man is unwilling to let go of the power and status he enjoys here. Also I'm just waiting to be called a bitch."

"A miniature kingdom ruled by the fear of a curse." Ciel surmised, picking up his book once more. "Unsurprising."

A knock sounded, small and meek. Mouser walked over to Sebastian's side, busying herself with the luggage.

"Enter."

"I'm sorry to disturb you so late at night." The maid paused softly as she opened the door, waiting a few seconds before entering, closing the door very softly, scrunching her hands together, twisting them. For someone with bruises that should be quite painful yet the movement didn't stop.

"The young Master was just preparing to sleep." Sebastian mentioned, his annoyance at the interruption clear. Mouser straightened, holding the sleeping wares, looking absolutely innocent as she crossed the small distance from the closet to the bed, spreading the fabric over it.

"I have a request." Angela whispered, all piety and kindness, worried over the fate of an outsider. "Please withdraw from this village. You must not stay here!" Dire dramatic words whispered as forlorn warning.

"Why?" It was Ciel disinterested comeback as he flipped the page.

"That is..." Suddenly a howl cut the air. Mouser looked up, frowning. Sebastian closed the closet's door, turning quietly, still seemingly dissatisfied with the maid's presence. "No! It has come! The Devil Dog has..." She began to shiver, eyes widening wobbling on the edge of a fainting fit.

"Devil Dog?" Ciel muttered, putting his book down, eye narrowing. Angela screamed suddenly when a shadow of a dog was highlighted against the curtains. "Sebastian." Ciel shouted. The demon moved, prying the curtains apart, looking out the murky glass. "What was that?" Ciel joined him shortly. Mouser fished out a cigarette, dismayed to find some were soggy because of the fog and lit it, the flame taking its time to catch on the tobacco and paper, before going for the window as well.

"Young Master, look."

There was something shimmering through the night and on the paths that led to it. The lights were starting to flicker awake in distant windows and a low sound of commotion began to rise and reach the castle. The boyo turned and left the room. Mouser and Sebastian followed at a rather sedated pace, watching as he crouched outside, touching the shimmering glowing dust. Ciel chuckled and turned.

"Mouser." She hummed, looking towards him. "Toss the cigarette into this."

"Aye, aye…" She murmured, disappointed, aiming carefully as the boyo stepped away. When the ember touched the dust it ignited in a bright flash of white light, dying down as it was consumed. Mouser hissed, covering her eyes with her forearm. Sebastian had moved a bit, discreetly, keeping most of the glow away. As she had been exploring in the dark her eyes had settled. A sudden flashing light like that could be quite painful. The boyo had also shielded his eye, blinking slowly to refocus.

"Young Master." Meyrin's scream came from the house, suddenly, the Phantomhive servants gathering at the front door of Barrymore Castle.

"Miss Angela" Finny called, looking around until his eyes found the maid.

"Just what is all the ruckus about?" Bard added, hugging his pillow.

They were in quite a state, dressed in their sleeping wares. Even Tanaka sported a stiff night cap. Mouser crossed her arms, looking down, towards the village. Torches were approaching.

"The Devil Dog has appeared, the one that will bring disaster to the village." Angela murmured dramatically, one hand closed near her heart, looking away. "Those who have disobeyed their master will be punished by the Devil Dog." She stared at them directly. "That is one of the laws of this village."

The trio flinched, Tanaka looked unperturbed as did Sebastian and Ciel. Mouser sighed, rolling her eyes, watching as the villagers gathered in front of the house.

"Miss Angela, please inform Lord Barrymore that the master Devil Dog has appeared." One of the people of the mob said, stepping forth.

"Who was punished?" She gasped softly.

* * *

The dogs were in quite the uproar as they entered the village, barking into the night, most of them locked in their kennels. It was not hard to find the body of a young man at the end of the glowing trail. He has clearly been bitten to death but… the boyo had approached, crouching next to the corpse too, his expression shifting the smallest bit. Mouser shook her head. She had seen people killed by packs of feral dogs in the alleys or executed via a boss's beloved pet. That was not nearly slobbery enough for either theory. There were no bits missing, no harsh splatter. Just bloodied bite marks.

"How cruel…" Bard murmured, still holding onto his pillow. Meyrin had been the only one that had bothered with changing clothes as an unmarried young woman would always be in a bit of a precarious situation.

"Don't touch him. "Barrymore's voice rang out, the crowd parting to allow their lord passage. "So, the bad dog was James?"

"Yes. He broke the rule of having five dogs per person." One of the villagers, an older man with a grey moustache and a crushed cap answered. "It seems he was keeping a sixth."

"I see. Then I suppose there was no helping it." Barrymore stated with a grim countenance, uncaringly.

"No helping it? What?" Bard shouted, outraged, a cigarette once more on his mouth.

"This village has rules set down by myself." The lord turned, raging, using the momentum. "Those who break the rules will be punished by the Devil Dog that serves the Barrymore family!" It was a rather dramatic announcement. And the villagers started that odd song the old woman had muttered on the road. Some sort of prayer to the dog? They carried the dead man away. Barrymore and his maid stayed behind for a moment. "I was sure that it would be an outsider to fall prey, but it seems you were spared." He walked away after the ominous statement.

* * *

The lake was apparently pleasant in temperature as the servants indulged in the water, no sign of cold breaking their playing, laughing and taunting each other while splashing about. Mouser sat next to the Young Master's chair, over the carpet, reading, having refused to put on any kind of bathing clothes. Most likely she was just wary of the water and swimming being a city creature. Ciel was reading too although the demon did not doubt the great difference in contents. But perhaps no great difference in reasons. As for Sebastian, he was standing a few paces away, one arm crossed over his stomach, holding a white towel, watching and waiting after serving the tea.

"Are you not going to swim, Young Master?" His remark was met with silence. Mouser looked up though, smirking a bit, looking over her shoulder. All her holsters and weapons were in place, unhidden. "I see. Of course you are…"

"If you're still able to swim here in this season it may yet have some merit as a resort." The boyo interrupted the game before he could politely mock his lack of ability or experience, glancing towards the servants and the Barrymore's maid sitting on the other carpet, next to the picnic basket under a parasol, waving at Finny.

"Are you truly thinking of making this place a resort?" Sebastian asked, glancing towards the servants too, only a slight surprise placed in his voice.

"Of course." Ciel said flatly, changing the page, looking down once more.

"What of the Devil Dog?" The demon stated casually

"You've noticed as well, right? The truth behind that "Devil Dog"?" Sebastian smiled, chuckling slightly. Mouser sighed, closing the book, putting it down by her side, straightening, legs crossed, grabbing her ankles, looking towards the hill. "Lend me your ear for a moment." Sebastian approached, leaning, listening carefully to the muted tone. Mouser looked slightly back, unperturbed.

"Yes my Lord." Sebastian straightened and started to move away. "Immediately" He added softly.

"You are quite eager." Ciel noted, looking at his butler with a slight frown. Don't you hate dogs?"

"Yes, I do. That is why I want to get this over with as quickly as possible... before it degenerates into the worst possible situation." Sebastian added before disappearing into the village.

Mouser stood, one hand on her hip, near the handle of a pistol, slipping into the thigh holster to retrieve her cigarette and lighter, stepping a bit away from the boyo. Clouds were gathering quickly, guttering out the sun, brought by a cold wind. The trio had left the water, dried themselves and were diving into the food. And the sound of shouts throughout the village shifted to a victorious chorus along with the church's bell.

"They caught the dog." She mentioned, looking at Ciel. The boyo closed the book and stood.

"Yes. Come. I have to confirm her Majesty's fears."

"Aye, aye." Mouser answered gloomily, following.

* * *

They arrived as the sign to begin was given and the dogs freed, the cheering of the villagers deafening. The servants had joined in when they noticed them leaving. There was nothing that could be done. Mouser shook her head, looking away, her eyes focusing on Finny suddenly, unsure of what had attracted her attention. He seemed... not as horrified as Meyrin who covered her mouth in disgust, or Bard who clenched his teeth in rage, or even the boyo who looked with a sour expression of repulsion... the gardener-boy was shaking, paling, his big blue eyes wide open and unseeing.

"Stop it... this is wrong..." He was whispering in a small voice.

Mouser sucked in a breath suddenly, twisting.

"Finny... don't..." She began, reaching for the boy.

"This is too much!" He shouted suddenly, running towards the dog fight, picking up one of the deeply buried flogging logs, swinging it wildly, throwing the bullying dogs out of the way. "Stop it!"

The old woman shouted in shock, gripping her head, passing out into the arms of fellow villagers, punctuating the enormous blasphemy the boy had done to those people. They started to grow aggressive, muttering about righteous punishment as Finny cradled the dog and the boyo and the servants ran to him.

"They're bad dogs... punishment to the bad dogs..." the crowd was echoing. Mouser could see the smug satisfaction the Lord's eyes as the crowd started to advance.

Mouser's shot caught the villager's shoulder. The man screamed, hand covering the wound, his peers glancing back, stopping to help. She made a short sound in the back of her throat, still aiming, walking towards her group, unsheathing the dagger.

"I missed." She deadpanned, dagger on the left, pistol on the right, standing in front of the Earl of Phantomhive. Meyrin looked spooked. Bard was ready to fight bare fisted if need be. Her actions seemed enough to shock the villagers into inaction and silence for a brief moment. Only the dogs barked. Some groaned, still pummelled into submission by Finny's charge.

"You bitch!" Barrymore shouted, shaking in outrage. Mouser shifted her aim towards him coolly despite the fact that he hid behind his people, poker face in place.

"And there it is." She drawled with a slight smirk breaking her features. "Boyo. Orders?"

"If I told you to kill them all, would you?" Ciel asked softly, staring the mob down.

"Might not have enough bullets but the blade of a knife doesn't tire easily."Mouser kept her smirk in place, the cigarette held between her lips, allowing the smoke to slither out. "Orders?" She repeated.

"You're outnumbered!" The shouts began, rising from the mob once more, their confidence growing.

"Surrender!" Others demanded, gripping pitchforks tighter, fidgeting.

"Stand down." The boyo said softly. She huffed and sheathed the blade, breaking her aim, holstering the weapon, tossing the cigarette down, stepping on it.

The villagers descended upon them, grabbing, drawing ropes, tying the servants to one of the wooden posts left, gagging them. Ciel was chained to the wall through chains that seemed prepared to hold a human. The time it took to disarm most of Mouser made them just slap one of the dog collars chained to the wall, around her neck, tying her arms behind her back as their lord seemed to be getting impatient, the dogs growling, mirroring the mood. They suffered no aggression because the village laws dictated that was to be left for the dogs. The loophole was still in effect.

"Humph... you're getting what you deserve Maltese." Barrymore stated, looking utterly smug surrounded by dogs and villagers that wholeheartedly believed in his power and the rule of the Devil Dog.

"Master I'm pleading with you" Angela interfered suddenly, eyes wide, despair in her voice.

Mouser twisted against her ropes, reaching under her waistcoat, touching one of the pen-knives, pulling slowly until it rested against her palm. "please forgive them!"

"That's true." Barrymore seemed to consider, magnanimously. "This Pomeranian is, even if only temporarily, one of those serving Her Majesty." He turned to Ciel whose expression hadn't changed. "Depending on what he has to say I may be able to let him go." Barrymore faced the Earl of Phantohive, trying to look even bigger. "Tell Her Majesty to withdraw and never consider this village again." He demanded.

"You'd go that far to protect your miniature kingdom?" Ciel smirked, looking unfazed. "Its seems like the expression "furious charge" was invented for you."

His dismissal seemed too much for the Lordship.

"Then know what happens to those who disobey me!" He raised his arm. "Do it." The dogs charged, released, barking, teeth bared. Mouser's blade slid under the ropes, her hands twisting to cut.

Something bleached white crossed the air, thrown hard. One of the dogs yelped, thrown back, immobile, broken fangs scattered about. The others were pushed back by Sebastian a swift kick after a leap. The demon straightened, adjusting his gloves, examining the ambience, the people, the dogs, the chained Phantomhive and entourage and the dog.

"You're late." Ciel complained grumpily.

"Please forgive me, my Lord." Sebastian said softly, glancing back smugly.

"Are you trying to get in my way you Garm?" Barrymore shouted flustered. He turned to the villagers. "What are you doing? Go and bite them to death!" More dogs were released, growling as they approached, eager to obey.

"Ah... what a loud and barbaric sound they make." Sebastian complained. Mouser felt a nick on her skin as the dagger finally cut through the ropes, flinching in pain. She saw the change in his eyes as the dogs cowered, stopping, laying down, wagging their tails. "This is why I hate dogs."

"Wh... what?" there was a shock in the man's face.

Mouser sat back, discarding her binds, and pulled at the collar, using the pen-knife to pick the lock wincing at the scrapping sound of metal. The knife would need sharpening afterwards.

"The farce ends here Barrymore. Listen, you village mongrels." Ciel's voice rang out strongly. "There is no such a thing as a Devil Dog. The only thing here is an old man who was bitten by the delusion of authority."

"What proof do you have?" Barrymore shouted back, feeling his control slipping.

Sebastian moved towards the first dog he had knocked down pulling something from its mouth.

"This." A dog skull, the one she had seen amongst the collection of dog paraphernalia in the... "It was in the basement of the mansion. The shape of the teeth match the marks on James." He then stood pointing up, towards the clouds where a dog shape was shadowed. "Please bear witness. This is the real truth behind the Devil Dog. The shadow was just a simple projection. Nothing more than child's play." Then his gloved hand went to his pocked picking up a flask of powder. "The shining thing in the night was pure phosphorous. He just poured the powder on an ordinary dog."

"The Devil Dog was an illusion choreographed by one person." Ciel completed smugly. "And that person was you Henry Barrymore."

"Whe...Where's the proof I did that?" The man was starting to sweat and the people who had followed him blindly were waking up. Also the lock finally gave way with a broken clack as Sebastian was walking towards James' dog, kneeling next to it.

"Please hand it over. Your job is done now." His voice lowered gently as he reached for the dog's snout. Then stood, opening his hand, showing what he had retrieved. "It is a high quality fabric. Why do you suppose this dog refused to let go of it until the end? The reason is this."

"That's..." Barrymore was definitely fearful now.

"Correct. While trying to protect James it bit your leg and this tore off. It is a piece of your trousers." Sebastian said calmly.

"Give it up. You're finished" Ciel shouted as the villagers turned on the Lord, finding the wound of the dog attack, grabbing him, dragging him to a brand of popular justice that never sat well with the likes of the Lordship. Mouser stood, shook the dirt from her pants as Sebastian freed the boyo. Angela had stayed behind, helping the servants free, returning Mouser's weapons with shaky hands. Finny ran to the dog as soon as the ropes were loose.

"You're incredible. Trying to protect you master until the end..." He whispered, kneeling, petting its matted fur. But it had been too much. The dog had died after his duty to its master had been fulfilled. "you tried so hard... so hard..." Finny whispered, weeping.

"This is why I hate dogs." Sebastian whispered, as the rain started to fall.

* * *

"With that the case is at an end. We'll leave the village as soon as the rain lets up." Ciel announced, the certainty in his voice undeniable.

"Yes." Sebastian answered frowning slightly after examining the Young Master for a moment, feeling slightly off, knowing the there was something more to the dismal place, bowing before leaving. For the moment his presence was unnecessary.

Mouser didn't stand up when he entered the room after the customary knock, sitting on thin the bed, caring for her arm. It was shallow, just a nick. Her wrists were slightly marked by the rope and the iron had bit her neck a bit. Nothing major. She was in the maid's room, the one given to her and Meyrin, in front of the male's room. It was the section of the castle reserved for the guest's servants. The room given to him was a few meters away, separated by his status in the household.

"Do you need something?" She asked softly, looking delightfully tussled.

Sebastian pulled her arm slowly, grabbing her by the wrist, meeting little resistance. It was still bleeding a slow thick trickle, darkening, just before the wound sealed itself. He sat next to her, taking the wound to his lips, licking it slowly. Mouser's eyes widened suddenly, her fingers trembling before closing into a fist, controlling her reaction through strength and pain. Warm skin, the scars even smoother, the shift in her scent triggered by his actions, the slight hitch on her breath.

Romans believed that excess bleeding dragged the soul out of the body. While that was not true, blood indeed carried a taste of the soul, seasoned by it. Humans would feel salt and iron. Demons could taste all the flavours the spirit had to offer. It was not disappointing.

"Sebastian... I..." Mouser hesitated a bit while he started to place a simple bandage over the cut, fingers playing with the reddened marks left by the binds. "...have to ask. How will it happen?" Still on the edge, now peeking down, fascinated and seduced by what she saw.

"A covenant will be set between us. You'll belong to me, utterly as I will belong to you. It can be seen as equivalent trade..." It was safe now to reveal a bit more, stroke her sudden curiosity.

"You'll always gain something more." She mentioned, smiling. "No gambler's den favours clean deals."

"What is offered to you is power, immortality, love." He caressed her face, his fingers sliding through her hair, drawing her closer to him. It was an easy word to use, insignificant for a demon but the easiest way to explain what a covenant would forge, to lure the prey. And despite her reserves and suspicions it was not a deal demons created lightly.

"Neither of you ask little. Take what you can..." She whispered when a scream echoed faintly, coming from the basement where they had locked Barrymore, after rescuing him from the angry mob.


	7. Chapter 7

"What's all the kerfuffle about?" Mouser asked, reaching the bottom of the stairs that led towards the basement, the dudgeon and rooms where the hunting paraphernalia had been stored, Sebastian silently following. "Oh." She eyed the empty prison, the crimson puddle aided by the rain that dripped from the rather large hole in the wall and shook her head, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Cor blimey that's a lot of blood innit..." Meyrin was standing up now, helped by Bard, shivering a bit in shock. Tanaka looked at the damage unemotionally. Sebastian approached the bars. "No way the blighter survived that... whatever it was."

"Humans can survive the oddest things." Sebastian mentioned as the sound of boots echoed through the stairs once more and the boyo appeared, Angela and Finny in tow.

"Master Barrymore!" The maid gasped, staring at the blood and hole.

The suddenly loud pounding on the front doors brought the group's attention outside, leaving the basement for the entrance hall, opening the doors to find one of the villagers dripping wet and in a state of panic and all he said was Devil Dog.

* * *

Mouser held up her parasol, keeping the rain from her and the boyo. The lace, woven into black roses and swirling rows of thorns, at the edges was soaked through but they were both dry. The idea had been "my parasol, my rules" in addition to the hats and jackets. Not that she had a hat. Then the boyo said he was the one paying her so he was entitled to sharing the protection.

The dog pit was filled once more, the villagers kneeling, praying through the same odd song, dogs sitting and howling into the air. Then a sudden flash of lightning illuminated Barrymore's corpse, propped against the wall, eyes open, unseeingly.

Ciel's eyes widened in surprise, glancing at Sebastian. The demon advanced through the crowd, crouching next to the man, examining his wounds. From a distance Mouser could see that his arm seemed bit off but the size of the wound suggested a single bite. There was no way a dog, a normal dog's mouth could encircle and rip away those arms. At least not in one go. And as lightning struck, showing Barrymore's dead form again and again the white haired maid passed out with a squeak.

* * *

"With that the case is at an end." Sebastian quoted dramatically as the Phantomhive and his staff assembled in the parlour. "Having declared such a thing this is rather unfortunate, isn't it, Young Master?" The demon mentioned, smiling slightly, a condescending look in his eyes. Mouser snickered before she could help herself.

"He said it?"

"Shut up." Ciel demanded a bit angrily, frowning harder than usual.

"What about Miss Angela?" Sebastian asked, recovering his butler veneer, looking at Meyrin.

"We've put her to bed for the time being." The maid answered with a tired, worried lilt in her voice. "It's no wonder she's tired out."

"It's so heart wrenching it's unbearable." Bard said grimly. Finny nodded, his big eyes full of worry.

"Why? The blighter's dead. Not as if he's going to be missed." Mouser crossed her arms, looking towards the fire.

"That's such a mean thing to say." Meyrin piped in. "What about Miss Angela?" Mouser glanced at her for a moment, her expression showing exactly what she thought about it.

"This village completely isolated itself from the rest of society, fearing the curse of the Devil Dog. Its existence was supposed to have been a farce Lord Henry created in order to rule." The boyo started, calmly, reviewing what he knew. "However that same Lord Henry has now...

"Those bite marks... Doesn't it as if they really are the Devil Dog's work, just like the villagers say?" Bard piped in, looking around worriedly.

"Maybe the real Devil Dog was angered by Lord Henry doing all those bad deeds in its name." Meyrin tossed into the conversation, spooked.

"Well it seems certain it was not the work of humans." Sebastian appraised. Mouser eyed him for a long moment then huffed, smirking.

"What do you mean by that?" Bard demanded, confused.

"Monsters are real." Mouser said in a low voice she used when telling horror stories to the kids under Jack's protection.

* * *

Mouser was sitting on the bed looking and feeling as grumpy as a bear awakened before spring, hugging the pillow lightly against her chest, her hair pointing in several directions, the bedding rumpled, eyes half closed, as Meyrin prattled on and on, gesturing wildly about ghosts, investigating, finding Finny, something about the Barrymore maid bonking a stranger, the boyo finding them and joining in with Sebastian or some such and Finny running away screaming.

"What?" She groaned, her head falling forward, snapping back up, the jerky motion stratling her slightly, asking slowly, in a raspy voice.

"It was just so exciting. It's like out of a novel and..." The pillow caught her squarely on the face. The maid screeched when the object was flying towards her, before contact. "Mouser..."

"Go to sleep..." Mouser snarled, snuffing out the candle, diving under the covers, turning her back on the maid.

Meyrin chuckled nervously, adjusting her glasses, sitting on the bed, flattening the sheets with nervous fingers. Maybe it hadn't been the best time...

* * *

"Today's snack is Cabinet Pudding prepared with blackberries from the surrounding regions." Sebastian placed the slice in front of the boyo along with the Assam tea.

Mouser glanced at the cake for a moment, pouting, sitting to the left of Earl, before returning to work, making a list of the lost classes, time tables to make up for it, what could be cut from the schedule and a list of chores to do as soon as she found out how much mail had been delivered. Usually where a Lord went his mail followed but there... isolation, rain and bad reputation was keeping everything at bay.

"You're quite laidback, aren't you?" Ciel asked, picking up his cup.

"There is no need to get flustered." Sebastian replied. Mouser grumbled, flipping the page, continuing her scribbling. Obviously he was not the one dealing with the schedule.

"Sebastian!" Meyrin barged into the dining room, followed by Finny.

"What is wrong? You're making a ruckus." Sebastian scolded with a calm harshness that made the noise dim slightly. Still the gardener-boy was too overwrought to be reduced to silence by the usual air of disapproving intimidation. He was contaminating Meyrin too.

"Miss Angela is nowhere to be found." Finny said, fists clenched, fidgeting.

"Ah." Bard acknowledged, understanding. "It seems there are some herbs that grow near the swamp. She said she'd go pick them." There was no worry in his voice, finding the action endearing and caring.

"On her own? To the swamp?" The gardener-boy said suddenly, worry growing over his features in a harder mask.

"Really? At a time when the Devil Dog may be running loose?" Meyrin adjusted her glasses, looking grim, following Finny's through.

"Ah, damn..." Bard gasped.

"Why did she go pick herbs at a time like this?" Finny complained, completely in fretting mode.

"It seems she was worried about how pale you looked." Bard explained, his voice low, thoughtful.

"For me?" The boy ran away suddenly, blanching at the news, bolting.

Mouser tapped her fountain pen, observing with disinterest.

"Sebastian we're going too." Bard announced, crossing the room toward Meyrin.

"Oh?" Sebastian wasn't showing much interest either.

"What? Don't you have any hot, red blood running through your veins? Let's go Meyrin." Bard was behaving like any other man. _Let's go rescue the fair maiden_ his actions were saying.

"Yes Sir!" Meyrin saluted, getting into the spirit.

"What about you Old Tanaka..." The old man was already prepared for an expedition although it seemed he had dressed and packed supplies for elephant hunting in Africa.

"He's got the spirit." Bard said appreciatively. "Right! Let's go you rabble!" And they ran out after Finny.

The boyo took another bite from his snack, mostly undisturbed by the commotion, before glancing at Sebastian.

"So... What colour _is_ your blood?" Ciel provoked.

Mouser looked up once again, capping the fountain pen, smiling slightly.

"I can tell you his underwear is black." She mentioned softly.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Ciel blushed vividly, turning to the secretary, a bit bewildered.

"It seemed equally irrelevant." Mouser turned her look back to the sheets of black and white as the boyo regained control.

"Seems like that was something to get flustered about." Ciel teased again, putting the exchange with Mouser aside. Sebastian allowed a very put upon sigh to escape. "Show them how perfectly you play your role Sebastian."

"Yes, my Lord." And boy did he sound miserable about that.

* * *

"My, my... you're quite good at the shake hands command." Sebastian's voice rang out, still calm, still collected, slightly amused and a bit to their left.

"Sebastian..." Finny's voice came through the fog too, closer, a rather small whisper, the mists too thick to navigate without a guide.

Mouser turned a bit eyes narrowing, staring at the swirling white mass around them, the boyo next to her looking around too, trying to find his missing demon, the one who had moved ahead when he heard a growl.

"However, as expected, it's a bit too heavy." Sebastian's voice echoed again, giving them a direction, the scene suddenly apparent as they stepped close enough. A gigantic white dog with red eyes and black claws was fallen against the stone ruins of a wall, looking around, sniffing the air, looking a bit confused.

Mouser whistled low, watching, arms crossed under her cape. That was a big pooch.

"Hey. This isn't the time to be playing around." Ciel demanded, walking calmly towards his servants who turned, surprised.

"Young Master..." it was almost a one voice exclamation, the boyo's presence confusing them.

"Of course. I intend to clean all this up in just a moment." Sebastian was smirking slightly, standing between the group and the dog that kept sniffing, pointy wolfish snout twisting towards the demon butler. "It is a scent you cannot resist, is it not?" He began saying, slowly, softly. "Puppy's favourite. They'll want to eat it every day. It's Innuko." A box was suddenly in his hand, the dog's eyes following as it swayed slightly.

"Innuko?" The servants repeated a bit confused, looking around, at each other.

"He brought doggie treats?" Mouser chuckled, covering her mouth. He was quoting the newspaper publicity with a straight face and... "He actually brought the doggie treats?"

And from a vicious dog that attacked strangers Sebastian was now dealing with an overeager puppy begging for scraps with big eyes and a tail that would not be still.

"The best way to train a dog is to bend its will and strengthen its loyalty. In other words the carrot and stick." Sebastian moved, jumping towards the dog, nibbling on its nose. Mouser this time couldn't help it. She started to laugh, as the faces around her showed clearly they thought the butler was not only odd but utterly cracked. Punishment and rewards followed, the dog being tossed and led around by the demon, either looking bewildered after a punch or kick or wagging its tail at the prospect of a treat.

"This is a bigger show than I could have imagined." Ciel said, staring, doing a much better job at keeping any amusement he felt contained. Mouser snorted, trying to control the sounds coming out of her mouth.

"And finally..." Sebastian said before moving. "A big hug." That hug plummeted the dog against the ground, creating an enormous crater, dust rising around it, followed by a sudden silence. The group approached, peeking down the darkness, worrying. Mouser placed her hands on her knees, bending down to peer into the pit.

"What are you idling about? Come back here this instant." Ciel demanded, looking down too.

"Understood." Sebastian's voice echoed through the hole, a rumbling starting to build coming from the depths of that place. Mouser stepped back suddenly. So did the boyo.

Water shot up like a geyser, the demon and with a white haired, fair-skinned man on his arms.

The servants shrieked and backed away, quickly, spooked by the water's force.

"Hu... is this hot water?" Bard noticed, surprised as droplets rained over them.

"One thing essential for a resort is a centrepiece that will provide tourist attraction." Sebastian began, allowing his voice to rise and fill the space. "Bathing luxuriously in excessive amounts of hot water draining away the fatigue of the day. That is what this is. The spa." He jumped down gracefully. Mouser noticed one thing about the man Sebastian carried. He was still behaving rather dog like. "If one who serves as the Phantomhive butler could not strike a spring or two where would we be?" And the pooch destroyed the moment by licking his cheek.

Mouser chuckled at his annoyance. Meyrin just stared for a moment before turning away, talking about shock, blushing heavily, sneaking peeks of the naked male. Mouser eyed him unabashedly for a moment and shrugged.

"Pluto!" Angela appeared, her voice floating around coming out of the fading mists of the swampy area, running towards them all gracefulness and innocence. The pooch jumped from Sebastian's arms, barking before hugging the woman, latching on like, well... a dog looking for petting.

Mouser pressed her lips together to hide her amusement at the thing's antics and gave Sebastian a handkerchief as the others stared in shock at the scene. They had thought her dead. And she couldn't say she cared if things had turned that way.

"I found this little one about a month ago." Angela started to explain, sitting on the ground, the devil dog resting his head on her lap, enjoying some petting. "I love dogs and he was just so cute I ended up trying to tame him."

"Cute?" Finny and Meyrin exchanged a look, tossing the word.

"He has a bad habit of turning human when he gets excited though." She explained in an overly conciliatory tone. Mouser huffed, itching to cover her ears and screech.

"Don't try to settle this by calling it a habit!" Bard shouted, rather outraged.

"So, you kept him without telling anyone." Sebastian summarized, his face a blank.

"Yes. Lord Barrymore used the legend of the Devil Dog but in reality he was more afraid of it than anyone else. When I thought about what would happen if this one was found out... I suppose I was too naïve. I did not think for one moment that he would do that to Lord Barrymore." A giant wild devil dog. _Of course_ he would not hurt anyone what an _utterly silly_ idea. Mouser huffed, her heel clicking against the cracked stone. "I beg of you, is there no way he could be taken to Lord Ciel's mansion?" Big purple eyes shimmering like a picture of innocence and niceness. Beggar tears. Genuine ones? What had the world come to?

Sebastian's eyes widened in surprise and not just a bit of displeasure.

"Take him to the mansion?" Bard said, surprised by the request.

"If he's under Mr. Sebastian's tutelage I believe he will become a wonderfully obedient dog!"

"Well I am a hell of a butler but..." There was no denying the clear distaste for the idea in the demon's face.

"That sounds fine." Ciel said cheerfully. Sebastian's eyes narrowed menacingly. Mouser stepped a bit closer rubbed his back discreetly.

"Are you serious, Young Master?" It was not easing his mood it seemed.

"Yes, it sounds fun..." the boyo glanced up in smug challenge. "in many ways. Well whatever. Our goal was accomplished."

"Would it perhaps be the time to say that line you so carelessly uttered before?" Revenge with a polite smile.

"You do it." Ciel was not amused.

And Sebastian did, performing.

"With that, the case is at an end!"

* * *

"Don't forget about me Pluto." Angela was saying putting a collar on him, kissing his cheek, rubbing his white hair. "And lets meet again Finny." She kissed him too, making the boy blush intensely, smiling kindly.

Tanaka was perched on the driver's seat, reins in hand. Bard and Meyrin had already hopped onto the coach. So had Mouser and Ciel. The thief was kneeling next to the boyo, arms placed over the back of their coach watching the scene with narrowed eyes. Sebastian surveyed the last minute issues, walking around, mostly ignoring the goodbyes.

"Well then... Shall we make some headway?" Sebastian spoke, turning towards the white haired maid as the devil dog climbed onto the second coach, curling and drifting into a nap. He was examining her again, a deeply suspicious glint in his crimson eyes. Mouser clicked her tongue, shifting.

"I will definitely come to see Pluto sometime." The maid said, smiling.

What was it... The... favourites. It clicked suddenly. The girls whose value in the marriage auctions granted them protection and less to no work from the Headmistress. The enemy with fake smiles and power to punish. The minions and spies that tattled on every other girl while training the forged politeness that won over the glittering ball halls of the higher ups.

"If possible, I would ask you to refrain from doing so." Sebastian was unimpressed and untouched by the request and syrupy tone. "Taming a devil dog is not such an easy task, though you seem to have quite a talent for it..." Sebastian kept both his face and voice pleasant despite the narrowing of his eyes and the clear distrust behind them. Mouser smirked, catching the irked shift beneath the perfect porcelain doll appearance of the maid, smiling, turning away, sliding down the seat, crossing her legs.

"Let's go, Sebastian." The boyo demanded. The butler said nothing as he climbed onto the carriage and urged the horses into motion.

* * *

The sudden scream of pain accompanied by gasps and shouts of outrage and fear echoed through the inn's first floor. The rain had forced them to stop. It had been mostly empty, just a few gentlemen from the ton drinking and loitering about, talking about returning to London's gaming hells. It was just a place to stay the night.

Ciel stood up from the thin bed, disoriented, running towards the corridor, trying to see what was going on. Sebastian was already there, watching. Bard, Finny and Tanaka came out of the room they shared, next to his. They had left the new acquisition on the stables with the horses.

Three men, the drunken rich gentlemen, were in the corridor, in front of the women's designated room, cowering in fear.

The door was open, the empty space occupied by Meyrin who had no glasses on, wearing her rather modest nightgown and holding a pair of Mouser's pistols, her aim trained on the trio, her expression stony. The fourth man was pinned to the wall by his right hand, groaning in pain, Mouser's dagger digging into his palm, firmly held by the woman whose nightwear showed most of her legs and arms. And looked absolutely vicious.

The innkeeper hurried up the stairs checking the scene.

"Now see here! This is a respectable house..."

"Is it?" Mouser said her sarcasm rather thick, her wrist moving. The wood creaked where the blade was sunk. The man screamed as the bones surrounding the dagger snapped out of their proper places due to the pressure. Crimson blood streaked the wooden wall under the candlelight. "So... respectable means... two women..." another absent-minded twist, another howl. Ciel cringed a bit at the sounds, feeling rather fascinated. Sebastian seemed to be enjoying the show too. Finny shook his head in shock but realized if even Meyrin was being deadly those men could not be good. "can be raped..." Bard scowled, looking at the males, hands fisting. Another twist, inverting the direction suddenly, a sharper scream as wooden splinters were shaken free, digging into the wound. "Because... care to elaborate?" She looked the man in the eye, watching him weep for a moment, her question directed to the innkeeper, pulling the blade free, turning.

The man slumped to the floor, cradling the wounded hand, squealing. While they liked delivering pain the soft noble-kind of Britain was wholly unaccustomed to be on the receiving end.

"Indeed I would like to hear why my maid and secretary were forced to defend themselves in you "respectable establishment"." Ciel drew himself up, his voice dragging softly in menace.

Sebastian crossed the corridor, sliding his coat over the less covered Mouser, standing in front of Meyrin without impeding her aim, doing his duty and sustaining the Young Master's claim on the women.

"I... your Lordship... you see... I... the ladies were alone... I had not noticed they were part of your party... usually respectable ladies do not travel without... so alone... so I was forced to conclude they were not..." he stammered, shivering under the Phantomhive's estate glares. Young Master, servants and butler. Mouser was looking at her blade. The men scurried away, frightened, dragging their wounded friend. "proper ladies..." he finished in a tiny squeaky voice. "I am terribly sorry about my mistake... I will compensate you of course... forgive me your Lordship."

Grovelling.

Ciel shook his head. Not terribly entertaining.

"Sebastian. Deal with this." He demanded, turning back into the room, going to bed. The butler sighed, sending the servants away, to their rests, reassuring the innkeeper, encouraging him to call the authorities as he should, waiting for all but one to disappear inside their rooms.

Mouser tilted her head sniffing at the coat covering her shoulders. Sebastian caressed her hair gently, placing his lips over hers softly.

"Viciousness can suit you beautifully when the time is appropriate." He mentioned, red eyes gleaming. "Clean and sharpen the blade before sleep. A servant of the Phantomhives cannot allow their weapons to go blunt."

"Of course." He just smirked, disappearing into the boyo's room. "Sebastian... your tailcoat..." Gonne. Mouser huffed and shook her head, closing the door, propping a chair against it. The lock had been broken.


	8. Chapter 8

"Boyo?" Mouser kicked the study door lightly with her heel in way of knocking, her arms balancing the delivered packages, announcing herself, waiting for his answer while leaning back against the wood to adjust the volumes and weight, allowing her hand free to twist the doorknob. "It has arrived." She adjusted the weight once again, crossing the room, placing the parcels on Ciel's desk, checking the work that was already done and ready to be filed or sent. "The chemicals are downstairs too."

"Good. Get a few books. Three thick ones at least." The boyo demanded, sitting back, patting the large cubic parcel's brown paper, a slight smirk in place. Mouser shrugged and went for the bookshelves, fingers tracing the engraved leather of the volumes.

"Any preference?" The boyo shook his head as she took some encyclopaedias down, holding them in the crook of her arm, one by one, the paper and leather weighing quite a lot, and placed the volumes on the desk with a dry thud, leaning against them with a sigh.

"And I will need a dark room. Carry this..." He pushed the other packages towards her, looking up, examining Mouser carefully. "and the chemicals into one of the rooms, close the window and make sure no light gets in. Light a protected candle and place some drying ropes across it. Then call the servants here. Tell nothing to Sebastian."

"Aye, aye..." Mouser blinked a couple times before moving. The things he mentioned should be the other deliveries, one of the rooms in the servant's quarters, the secondary laundry room should do as it had a granite workbench and only a small window. She could also use the dirty sheets as a way to prevent any luminosity.

* * *

The three servants were shivering in front of the boyo's desk, trying to look serious. Tanaka stood behind them calmly, waiting for his orders as a classically trained aide of the house. Mouser sat down, on her usual spot, this time choosing the armchair that she had turned, back towards the fireplace, giving her a view of the whole study, crossing her legs, waiting. The boyo's dour and solemn expression was not helping the mood.

Meyrin took a deep breath and decided to speak up.

"So then, what was this matter you wanted to discuss with us?" She asked finger-twiddling, voice low and shy.

"There is a job I want you three to do." Ciel finally announced.

"Job?" the chorus sounded while the three hugged each other, smiling, chuckling nervously.

"What a relief!" Finny exclaimed.

"Being called up to the Young Master, I thought we were going to be fired for sure." Meyrin continued, cheerfully while Tanaka muttered his characteristic Hohoho.

The boyo awaited till the excitements subsided and placed the camera that had been delivered on the top of the desk.

"This is one of the items that Talbot is said to have collected: a camera with a past. I heard this long-lost item had suddenly come up at auction and I went to quite some trouble to acquire it." Mouser chuckled quietly. So that had been the goal of the flurry of letters, contacts and the two trips to London in the last three days.

"Talcum?" Finny asked, curiously, mishearing the name.

Tanaka coughed discreetly, calling attention to himself, straightening.

"William Henry Fox Talbot. He was an English scientist and one of the inventors of photographic technology. There is a strange rumour surrounding the final camera he used. It is said that if you take someone's picture with the camera then the being most treasured by that person may also be revealed in the photograph."

"The thing most important to that person?" Meyrin stated, romanticising the idea.

"And this is that camera?" Bard asked.

"Let's take one as a test." The boyo stated, leaning forward, taking the dark fabric, hiding under it. Finny was in the direct path of the photograph. "Don't move. This camera takes ten seconds for the negative exposure." The gardener immediately held his breath, standing still and stiff as a fuse when the boyo removed the cap of the lenses.

"What's negative exposure?" Meyrin asked hesitantly, watching.

"Put simply it reflects and burns Finny's image." Bard explained, looking at the camera itself.

"If you don't stand still for ten seconds it will blur and won't come out properly." Ciel added, still under the dark cloth, his voice slightly muffled as Finny struggled, starting to turn red. "Eight. Nine. Ten. All right." Ciel covered the lenses. Finny let out a huge gasp, inhaling greedily. "It was fine to breathe though..."

* * *

True, the darkroom was improvised but it seemed to be within the acceptable standards of the boyo as he developed the image, explaining the process methodically as he performed each step. Mouser's eyes narrowed. Why was he bothering to do all this?

Finny's eyes widened as it started to form in the dim reddish light.

"Ah! That's my little bird" He chirped happily as the boyo used a set of tongs to pick up the piece of paper.

"Huh? You had a little bird?" Bard asked as the group moved back towards the study after the picture was placed on a rope to dry.

"How cute!" Meyrin said ruffling Finny's hair, both entering the study as Mouser closed the door behind them.

"I gave it food everyday and eventually it would come eat from my hand. I was so happy and when I went to pet it nicely..." there was loud snap as the wooden bear figurine Finny had been hugging while reminiscing snapped, the bear head clattering over the carpet. "It stopped moving."

Mouser shook her head softly while putting the books back into their place.

Meyrin stared at the broken head for a moment.

"You mean it..." She gasped, fingers covering her lips.

Bard had a sudden shiver to conceal.

"Ah, I forgot to mention something." Tanaka intervened once again, touching his moustache, putting the tea cup down. "the precious thing that is reflected is something which does not belong in this world." Mouser stopped moving, her fingertips sliding down the book's spine, looking towards the boyo. She huffed, amused, catching on, and returned to her task. "In other words, only the dead."

"The dead?" Bard gasped nervously.

"By that you mean..." Meyrin did the same, a breathless gasp, eyes widening behind her glasses.

"The most precious thing to that person which is not of this world." Ciel completed, eye closed, looking smug. Mouser crossed the room, rescuing what was left of the figurine from Finny's arms, placing it on the support table. "In other words, it means the dead will be transposed to the photograph."

Bard and Meyrin shrieked in fright behind Ciel's chair.

"Do occult stories like that really exist in the 19th century world?" Bard asked, spooked.

"You have a devil dog in the gardens. Why is this any weirder?" Mouser mentioned, preparing the meeting papers about factory expansion and new areas to explore for the Funtom Company.

"How amazing! What an exceptional camera!" Meyrin, fan of the thrills and shivers, praised the story.

Finny was curled in a corner sobbing about his little birdie.

"Take a picture of Sebastian with this camera. However do it without him realizing."

"A sneak photo?" Bard asked.

"Indeed."

"Wouldn't it be easier if you told him to sit still and let you take it?" Mouser said softly taking supplementary notes for the documents' later organization. The boyo glared for a moment before looking back at his chosen photographers.

Meyrin's mind apparently went towards the other photographic territory, a blush and a very focused expression coming over her face. Mouser chuckled. Couldn't fault that...

"Wh...who is the one Sebastian cares most for?" The maid pounced on the question.

"I'd kinda like to know." Finny added, brought from his sadness by the prospect of knowledge, coming out of his corner of woe, wiping the tears away.

"I can answer that."Mouser waved her hand with the brief for the Funtom's candy products, raising her voice cheerfully. They turned to her, curiosity lighting their eyes. "Himself." The group slumped, dissatisfied with her answer, turning back to the boyo.

"That bastard is always finding flaws with my artistic cooking." Bard stood straighter, growling. Mouser lit a cigarette, watching, settling back into the cushioned armchair. "He's human too. He must have a weak point or two."

"Cats." She said dryly, largely ignored by the mood ignited by the boyo, who seemed to be savouring the results of his nudges, placing the documents in a neat pile.

"This is our chance." Bard completed his line of thought, smiling gleefully.

"You'll do it, right?" The boyo asked casually.

"Yes, my Lord." The trio spouted, cheerfully breaking the obedient straightening that preceded the phrase, gossiping about how much they wanted to say it. Ciel nodded, dismissing them.

"This will be something to see..." The boyo mused smirking, his eye roaming to the other person sharing the room, the one that still hadn't given in. "Mouser."

"Aye?" She finished the documents and picked the pen and paper to verify, blowing a last of the smoke into the air, the butt going into the cosy fire.

"You're forbidden to talk to Sebastian for this day."

"And if I do?" Mouser leaned back, fingertips touching, placing the pen and papers to the side.

"I'll dock your pay." The boyo said in a sweet threatening way.

"How about you pay me more?" She retorted with a smirk to match his. Not talking to the demon: No checking chores, no coordinating schedules, no getting pinned against the wall, no discussion about mail, the estate and placing orders... no cake.

Ciel groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Go to the games room and bring the Funton doll house, the lead army and the farm animals." Mouser's brows drew together but she shrugged, stood and left the room, hunting the items requested.

* * *

Three little soldiers and a black sheep... or a ram, seeing it had horns. Strategy planning for a toymaker. Mouser leaned against the boyo's chair, crossing her legs, tilting her whole body to the left, watching as he placed the toys in the dollhouse, focused. The clocks chimed, time echoing through the manor, marking the start of the chase.

"At this time Sebastian is normally in the library." Ciel said, the toys in place.

Cleaning and organizing, verifying the maid's job.

Mouser opened the note book in one hand, looking away. The day had been cleared of classes because of Mr. Paul Jones', from Brit Business Company, visit. Funtom work could wait and society was bundling up for the winter events. Clubs, literary salons, opera, theatre, the occasional museum lecture and showcasing. Balls and soirees were dwindling and invitations came with a bit less enthusiasm. On the other hand the Earl of Phantomhive's lack of appearances at social gatherings made him the hostess' prize. The one who could nab his presence would be highly praised and respected. Until gossip said otherwise.

Failure, informed Meyrin about five minutes later, peeking into the study, looking dejected.

"It is getting cold rather fast this year isn't it? Every morning I see frost..." Mouser mentioned, going for the armchair, sitting down smiling, placing the work tools on the low coffee table, opening the new sensation book. Rich heiress, evil men, fortune, misfortune...

"Next up is the cleaning of various rooms." Ciel continued, glancing at the clock, moving the soldiers and sheep. He intertwined his fingers, resting his chin over them, looking thoughtfully at the dollhouse.

This time the failure was announced by a loud bang. Almost as if a wall had been knocked down. Mouser looked up from the first chapter and the unfortunate events that kick-started the plot to find the Young Master rubbing his brow with an annoyed expression and thinned lips.

"Then come his daily duties in the butler room." Ciel rearranged the soldiers once again.

Mouser just hummed in accordance, uncrossing and re-crossing her legs.

The earl smirked and waited till things were prepared before ringing.

It didn't take long for Sebastian to show up.

Mouser peeked from behind her book, pulled away from the first kiss with the evil cad that would further corrupt the pure heiress and drown her deeper into woe, amused, watching the interaction.

"Was there something you wanted?" Sebastian asked, standing at the partially opened doorway, looking inside.

"It's untied." Ciel noted, chin pointing towards his bowtie, his chair placed sideways so the field vision from the window was open.

"Understood." Sebastian said, his face a complete blank of boredom and annoyance. Still he was down on one knee, tying the bow once again. Mouser chuckled quietly, placing the book in front of her eyes. Outside the window they were being loud enough for _her_ to hear. Also she was fairly certain that there was no way Sebastian didn't know he was being tailed and snapped. He glanced at the windowpanes after his task was done, casually stepping towards them, opening the window wide, glancing both ways. But not down when it would have been logical seeing that this was the first floor. "Let's let some air in." The demon said with a slight smile before leaving without any further comment.

Mouser went to the window, leaning outside, looking down, elbows on the windowsill, face between her palms.

"This is not going very well, is it?" She asked to the three people spooked out of speech dangling on a set of stairs, feeling rather amused. Behind her Ciel groaned in frustration.

* * *

Lunch was taken in the studio that day.

Mouser was sent out before Sebastian even came near the place.

So she raided the kitchen, helping herself to some of the cold meat leftovers of last night's dinner, putting them on a bit of fluffy fresh bread, one of the loaves to singed to be presented to the boyo, went to verify if any more mail had arrived and then she planned on staying in the kitchen, reading, until the boyo called her back, or till it was time to retrieve and deliver the documents.

It was just a measure so there would be no chance or temptation to talk.

A knock on the door? Mouser stilled in the middle of the grand foyer, glancing at the double doors.

She looked at the nearby clock.

It was still too early to be the guest...

* * *

"Boyo... you might have a problem..." Mouser opened the study door, peeking in as the conversation veered towards flame throwers and a very definite _no_ on their use to photograph demons.

"No need to be so formal my dear girl." Lau said pleasantly behind her, patting her head playfully, opening the door fully, his arm over her head, barging in, arms opening in greetings. "Hi Earl."

Mouser groaned, closing the door behind him, standing next to it.

RanMao was in the corridor, making no motion to follow.

"Master Lau?" Meyrin gasped, surprised as the Chinese slid forth, walking past the trio, placing his hands on the desk, leaning forward, glancing around quickly, taking in the ambience, smiling peacefully.

"What did you come here for?" The boyo was not amused or pleased.

"I heard something interesting was happening." Lau stated simply.

"Go home." Ciel looked away, eyes narrowed, a vein on his forehead thrumming.

"Don't say such cold things. Leave this to me." Lau complained, picking up the black ram, his hand gliding over it mysteriously. "The spider's web has already been woven. The more you struggle, the harder it becomes to escape from those bonds." Mouser tilted her head a bit then smiled, picking her papers, slowly. "Whatever the prey, once they get involved with me, catching them is only a matter of time."

"All right. However I will not tolerate failure. No matter what."

"But of course. If I sullied the Phantomhive name I'd be ejected from this country after all." Lau stopped for a moment while everyone stared at him. "So what are we doing?"

Mouser chuckled on the way out as the faces inside went from anger to pure disbelief.

* * *

_Cannot talk to you. Here are the papers for the meeting. Do you want to verify or should I just give them later? _Mouser smirked slightly, showing him a paper with those words written. Sebastian stared for a moment, taken slightly aback. Her eyebrows arched a bit. He chuckled. So for today the Young Master was determined to create whatever trouble he could.

"Please." He took them from her hands, reading quickly while walking towards the entrance, opening the doors, glancing at the mansion's access, preparing form the guest's arrival. Then gave the folders and information back. "Leave them in the drawing room."

Mouser nodded softly and moved away, placing the papers on the table of the drawing room, nodding a greeting towards Tanaka, the public face of the Funtom Company and went back to the foyer. She stopped for a moment in the first steps, looking around. Seemed whatever preparations they needed were in place. She sighed, frowning when noticing RanMao sitting on the stairs' banister.

The coach was stopping outside, visible through the doors.

Sebastian had his back turned to the interior of the house, waiting solemnly. She walked silently over to the boyo and the Chinese, sliding behind the column, peeking, curious to see what RanMao was going to do to keep the demon still.

"And so it begins." Lau said softly, peeking, his head placed next to her, leaning casually against both Mouser and Ciel as Sebastian crossed the foyer, carrying the guest's hat, followed by the man who glanced around, looking dutifully impressed. Mouser angled her hips, shaking the Chinese's hand away.

As the men reached the middle of the stairs, before they split left and right into the depths of the house, RanMao began to move, crossing and uncrossing her legs so slowly that even the bells she wore around her ankles didn't make a chime. Her china-doll expression did not change in the least.

The British gentleman stopped staring as the woman displayed her sensuous movements, a blush spreading over his fair features. The boyo started to blush too, his bright blue eye widening. Sebastian didn't even glance back. Mouser snickered against her fingers.

"What is with that?" The boyo grumbled, glancing away, his face a bright shade of pink.

"Oh, how strange. I thought that would definitely make that butler stop and look for a second." Lau whispered, tilting his head thoughtfully.

"I am an idiot for believing in you for even a moment." The boyo complained.

"It's too early to give up yet." Lau slid out of the columns' shadow and started gesturing. The servants slid out of the stair's corner with heavy fans, starting to wave them upwards. RanMao was now standing, balancing, her legs moving slowly, the air flowing around her. Her short cheongsam skirt started to float. Mouser's lips pressed together, snorting as she bottled a laugh, covering Ciel's eye, leaning against him.

"You're way too young boyo." Mouser whispered against his ear. He grumbled, arms crossed, face growing redder and redder, warm enough to heath her palm.

Bard had a kneejerk reaction, the camera pointing up suddenly.

Sebastian was looking down with a calmly puzzled expression.

"Mr. Jones?" He called softly, startling the man who snapped out of his daze and hurried along.

"Ah, how strange." Lau commented as Mouser removed her hand from the boyo's line of sight. RanMao was sitting down once more. The Chinese hugged Mouser suddenly. It was a usual gesture, the one that disgusted onlookers back in the day. The thief rolled her eyes, staying still. "Maybe we should try placing you nude..."

"Would not work." Mostly because she would refuse. Maybe. Demon interest in front of audience might also be an issue. Mouser broke away, walking towards the double doors, closing them.

"What a waste of time." The boyo said, frowning once again.

* * *

Mouser and Bard gambled and smoked, continuing their game of cards, sitting on floor, on the corridor outside the boyo's study, relegated out with the rest of them, a small pile of trinkets in-between the cook and thief. Lau had joined the picture trio now. RanMao sat next to him quietly.

"I wonder what the earl is doing all on his own." Lau spoke up, looking in the door's direction.

"Brooding." Mouser said curtly. "Four of a kind." The cards were placed over the carpet in quick succession. Bard groaned as she displayed her hand, letting go of his cards with a frustrated grunt, smoke coming out of his mouth in a short burst, the cigarette trembling in outrage.

"Sulking maybe." Lau agreed, nodding slowly.

"He said he wanted to think on his own for a while but..." Meyrin whispered, staring at the wooden entryway too.

"Flush." Bard said chuckling cockily. "The Young Master is pretty serious this time..." his mood changed as he glanced away too.

Mouser sighed, blowing up the smoke, shrugging, glaring at her hand, tossing the cards down.

* * *

To prevent further contact and keep himself entertained throughout the rest of the afternoon, after Sebastian presented his report about the interview and left to prepare dinner, Ciel had called Mouser to the games room to play chess. She had lost once again, not really interested in playing, just humouring him while learning. There was a slight improvement in her plays and some potential if she cared enough about what she was doing.

Night was falling earlier and earlier everyday and the outside darkened at a quickened pace.

The pieces were once again organized for battle... Ciel glanced out once more. There was time for a last match then...

Mouser sighed suddenly, straightening on the chair and looked at him for a moment before closing her eyes, head down. Her fingers reached over for the first move... toppling the white set slowly, one by one, each piece producing a soft clack against the board, until the king was down. Then she stood up, leaning, picking up the black queen, placing her amidst the carnage, looking him in the eye calmly.

"It's about time." The boyo said, looking away, into the night, standing up.

Mouser followed him outside, watching as the cold created foggy breaths.

Neither of them was dressed for the outside weather but the task shouldn't take long.

"I still believe you are overworking it." She noted, lighting a cigarette calmly, protecting the lighter's tiny flame from a cold gust of wind carefully. The boyo just huffed, reaching the empty spot chosen for his play.

Finny was raising a headless statue while Pluto howled, somewhere near.

"Is this really all right?" Finny asked as Mouser stepped back into a safer area, behind the gardener-boy, watching.

"Yes."

"But..."

"It's fine. Just do it." The boyo shouted.

Finny shook from head to toe, closing his eyes with a whimper, before gaining momentum and tossing the statue upward with all is strength. As it fell he cowered, frightened, as the boyo stood still. Finny couldn't take it, though. He stood and started to run, screaming for the Young Master.

It was too fast for her to see but as the dust cleared the boyo was on the ground, Finny was a few paces short of the impact area, dazed, and Sebastian was there wearing the stone wings of the beheaded angel for a brief moment, looking none too happy. He started to help the boyo up when the lights from firework dragons began to glow, illuminating the area for the picture to be taken.

"Isn't this a wonderful picture?" Lau and RanMao came out from their hiding places.

Mouser blew a wisp of smoke, shaping it nonchalantly, glancing around.

Sebastian was standing surprisingly still.

"You're late." Ciel chastised.

"I apologise." The response was automatic, something that should be said when faced with the lord's displeasure. "I was making preparations for tonight's dinner. Today's main dish is a Rouen style roast duck." Motionless and very close.

"I see." The boyo said, looking to the side

"You should just have ordered me to let you take it." Sebastian mentioned, a laugh in his voice, unmoving. Mouser smirked and walked away shivering a bit against the nigh air.

* * *

The sounds of things breaking echoed loudly throughout the mansion.

Mouser stopped in the middle of one of the darkened corridors, looking around, frowning. Then she walked towards the makeshift darkroom to check what was happening, stopping in the curve, staring at Sebastian who rewarded Pluto with a quick reluctant pat and a treat. She huffed softly as he turned, ordering the dog to sleep outside. The boyo's success was rendered moot now, wasn't it...

"Forced to face defeat in his moment of triumph." Mouser smirked, watching the demon's approach. "I do have to say that's quite more beastly than just failure."

"My, my..." Sebastian stopped in front of her, tilting her head up, forcing eye contact. Mouser allowed herself to go. He leaned close, foreheads touching. "Aren't you disobeying the Young Master?" The demon breathed against her lips as if promising punishment. Mouser moved slightly away, escaping his fingers, looking down mischievously.

"The day ended quite a few hours ago." She mentioned very softly. "On the other hand... I'm easy."

* * *

"Excuse me, it's time for bed." Sebastian said softly as he knocked on the study door, opening it when no answer came. The boyo was sleeping on his chair, Mouser noted, peeking behind the butler's back. "Sleeping out here like this... how sloppy." He muttered to the thief. "That aside it would seem the number of unnecessary jobs has increased again." Sebastian completed with a small sigh.

Mouser looked at the camera on the desk and raised a normal one she had found in the library.

"Want to play a bit?"She asked with a smirk leaning her head against Sebastian's arm in an affectionate bump.

* * *

"Sebastian got transposed." Finny said, looking at the photograph the trio had been able to salvage when cleaning up the slightly burned second laundry room. It had survived under a metallic tray, a shot of the Young Master in his study. And the one who stood besides the chair with a small smile was Sebastian.

"So the one most important to the Young Master is Sebastian?" Meyrin said, surprised.

"So that's how it is..." Bard retorted

"They're really close friends." Finny said cheerfully.

"The young Master is my rival... what should I do..." Meyrin groaned, a fist shivering under her chin.

"But Mouser is..." Bard looked at the other half of the picture where Mouser leaned against the Young Master's chair, smirking, head tilted towards the camera. "and... back there..."

"Ah PluPlu!" Funny pointed to the devil dog's figure behind the murky window.

"Which means..."

"So the one Sebastian cares the most is PluPlu?" Meyrin gasped startled, hands going into her hair. "Or..."

"Is that true? Wait? Who is the one getting photographed here?" Bard said suddenly, staring at the image.

"Mornin'." Mouser muttered as she walked across the kitchen, aiming for the tea pot, hair still down, a bit longer, some tips reaching her neck now, the strands that had been braided brushing her shoulders.

"Mouser did you take a picture yesterday?" Meyrin asked suddenly.

"Picture? I thought Sebastian was the one you were after..." She said softly, helping herself to some breakfast, hiding a smirk as the quarrel grew behind her.

* * *

The Young Master stared in dismay at the picture placed in front of him, propped against the salt and pepper shakers. Sebastian was snickering quietly in the background, moving smugly, placing another plate in front of him, leaning with a smile. The butler stood next to his sleeping form, captured in black and white.

"I'm honoured."

"Shut up."

"It's your own fault for leaving yourself defenceless while asleep." Sebastian chastised softly.

"You bastard."

"The image reflected in the picture is but an illusion. However, even if it is an illusion, whishing to hold onto it is one of the hollow dreams humans have."


	9. Chapter 9

_Take what you can.._. wasn't it? There were fears that were deeply ingrained in her mind. What she'd seen, what she'd done… In the end it mattered not. _Do what's right by you._ Move forward, ignore the pain. So she wouldn't let an old fear rule her. Mouser's hand crushed the linen bedding nervously under her fingers, one hand gripping, the other releasing suddenly, looking around once again.

The butler's room was spacious and comfortable, simply furnished with a rather wide metal frame bed, closet, drawers, desk, a ceramic pitcher and basin under a mirror and nightstand, the light provided by a couple of small lamps. It was cold though, the fire unlit on the fireplace built into the wall. He probably had no need for it. The door had been unlocked also so it was easy to assume he had no fear or secrets within.

There was a slight hesitation created of surprise when Sebastian entered the room, stopping, staring at her, the same polite blank stare he used when looking at Ciel when the boyo was being particularly difficult. Mouser looked up and sighed, letting go of the fabric, steeling herself. He closed the door calmly, straightening, watching her, his expression closed and calm, the mask still in place, irking her slightly.

"Are you accepting?" The demon asked softly.

Mouser stood, feeling his eyes on her, calculating, the only shift in him, and walked towards him, barefoot, uncaring about her state of undress, the hair down, framing her face without rule. She had sneaked away after Meyrin had gone to bed... actually after most of the household did. There was no reason to disturb anyone else. Her hand shot out suddenly, gripping his tie, pulling him down, lips crashing against his. Greed and lust. A claim in her gesture, in the way her heated lips moved against his, tongue darting just a bit, a fleeting touch, a brief hesitation, as if she was about to run, before a tilt in her head brought the kiss into a deeper caress, a soft sound echoing in her throat, an odd shy moan.

"I'm taking." She challenged, moving just an inch back, breathing the words hoarsely.

Sebastian smiled, a sly slow grin spreading over his lips, showing just a bit too much of a fang, still bowed over her as she hadn't let go of the black silk, the kind of smile that promised either pain or mischief. Hard to tell. The door lock clicked softly, the lock groaning, complaining about the use.

Mouser hardly had time to let go of the tie, to react, as he moved, unnaturally fast, possession in his hands and mouth as they touched her, allowing a deep growl of satisfaction to break out of his lips, dragging her closer, picking her up with sudden urgency, the wooden door creaking when he pressed against it, his kiss hungry and demanding, bringing his scent around her. The thief's leg slid up against his, curling around his thigh, tiptoeing to gain leverage, her hands in his hair, their tongues tangled... and then he was gone. Mouser gasped, arching back against the door, unbalanced, her fingertips scrapping the wood slowly as something inside her kept urging her on, bringing heath to her cheeks.

Sebastian smirked as she crossed the room slowly, cautiously, watching with eager wonder as he got rid of his clothes, gestures slowing down once again, a predatory look in his eyes as he pulled the gloves free with his teeth, dropping them on the desk, unbuttoning tailcoat, vest and shirt, black nails gleaming softly as the long dextrous fingers worked on the vestments.

The thief sat slowly on the bed, apparently unable to look away, the fabric whispering under her, her breaths shallow and quick. There was no shyness in him, for one. A handsome male, dark hair falling tousled and wild around a wicked face, the devious smile still gracing his lips, matching the impious intentions in his eyes, the pupils shifting, thinning, growing unnatural, pale skin, almost eerily so, smooth and unbroken, unmarked, a leanly muscled body that did not betray the strength of the beast within.

Also it seem she had been right about the colour of his underwear, now discarded next to his other pieces of clothing. Her eyes moved downwards slowly, a shiver running up her spine. Men were not a mystery. She knew full well what dangled between their legs and the pain it could bring. But to actually feel desire for Sebastian as a man, to see proof of his desire in more than ravenous kisses and wandering hands... it trilled and confused her.

A fang made a cut on his lower lip, a small bead of blood welling up, glistening in the almost total darkness that bothered neither. Her breath shivered as it left her parted lips, eyes glued on his form, roaming once again, appreciatively, the tip of her tongue wetting her lips, anticipation fraying her nerves.

Sebastian's blood kiss touched her forehead, deliberately staining it red, the demon sliding onto the bed, mattress dipping under his weight with a groan, cupping her cheek, making her move closer, her hands sliding over the soft skin of his shoulders, caressing him back a bit tentatively, in discovery, as his hands slid over her chemise, under it, betraying his earlier hurry in a lazy slide, fabric and skin uniting in a tortuous caress to madden her.

Mouser arched with gasped, broken sounds, eyes closing, hands going limp, shivering once again as long fingers drew patterns over her arms, hands, stomach, edging softly near the edge of her bloomers, sneaking teasingly under the band for a moment, tracing the shape of her hipbones.

The chemise disappeared suddenly as he pushed her back against the soft sheets, hands trailing down her exposed form, thumb brushing suddenly against the nipples cold and arousal had stiffened, dragging a longing gasp from her, her back bowing from the bed, eyes closing as heat grew from within. His next kiss touched her right ankle, his hands trailing down, dragging her bloomers down and away, leaving another red stain with his lips. Mouser's eyes snapped open, a bit surprised as his fingers slid over her legs, knees and thighs, receiving a long lazy caress, fingertips brushing the skin before the palm flattened, hot and possessive against her, dragging her down after reaching and cupping her derriere.

The thief chuckled in a smoky tone, amazed at the feelings, at the need, at the very fact that she was growing wet and unbearably hot, looking up, trying to focus on his eyes finding it impossible as his hands kept moving on her, dragging shivers and whimpers, the blood rushing to her cheeks, the sensation making her molten, surprise at each action making her squirm against the demon, the feeling of skin against skin further making her loose focus. For all the smoothness of his skin there was something undeniably hard cradled between her thighs. A shiver ran through her, instinct making her try to close her legs, with a bit of a start, her mind snapping in fright at the unfamiliarity, finding his hips on the way, a movement from his hands kneading her breast slowly allowing her to forget with an hissed curse, her head falling back against the mattress, hair spilling like ink around her face.

Sebastian touched her hand, turning her left palm upwards, holding her wrist firmly, prying her fingers open, fingertips ghosting over her palm, the bead of red touching her palm, the demon nipping the skin, breathing against the bloody mark, moving on to her right palm, repeating the motion on her other hand. Then he curled down, caressing her waist, hands running over her, prolonging the stroke, reaching for her right ankle, another bloody bead finding its resting place before returning to her forehead, cupping the back of her head, pressing her against him before claiming her lips hungrily, wet hot tongue playing with hers once more, curling and sucking, his hand finding her damp centre, touching her slowly, sinfully, making her arch with a whimper into his mouth, arms sliding around him, pulling him closer, as her mind simply gone numb with pleasure, blanking for a moment.

Mouser refused to let any tendrils of fear reach her, break her away from _that_. Pleasure flooded her senses, flaring his own, the scent of her arousal hanging heavily around him, the sounds, the taste of her telling him what he required, need growing impossible to ignore even for a demon that disdained humanity, who saw them as little more than prey. The blood seals were in place, the woman giving herself to him, to do as he desired, her virginity further fuelling his hold.

Harsh bites followed by slick scorching kisses over the sensitive skin and languorous sweeps of their hands, forceful and sweet without warning or logic. Not any that she could tell, fallen into that blissful state, matching him, touch for touch.

Pain clawed through her suddenly as he claimed completion, her lips parting silently before growling, short blunt nails digging into his back, both latching onto him and spurring him on, her legs going around his hips instinctively, the thought of fighting the invasion simply vanishing her mind as Sebastian nuzzled her slowly, his breath teasing along the column of her neck, bringing him closer, deeper, the feeling of pain and fullness... her arms went limp for a second, sliding from his back, barely able to hold on around his neck, her eyes closing hard as he stopped moving, her body simply cradling his, the simple act of breathing, even their heartbeats sending shivers through her.

Ache and lust fuelled each other in a cycle, wandering hands learning her body again and again with merciless accuracy, finding each spot, each secret that drove her wild, unlocking all she had buried beneath fear and disgust, forcing pleasure to rip through her body, ravishing her until nothing but him filled her mind.

Mouser gasped, arching, clinging, unable to move in his hold, the rhythm he set ravenous and brutal, moving sinuously. It was as if he knew exactly what to do, where to touch to leave her a mess of flaring need and sated to the point of staring down an empty abyss, unable to do more than mewl and undulate against him, accepting. What was left aware of the world in her mind was whispering quietly that it was impossible, that it couldn't last, how could he still... endure... when she... her mind blanked once more, nails drawing blood this time. Sebastian bit into her skin suddenly, his voice whispering against her as his tongue dragged over her dampened skin, a cry coming out of her mouth once again, feeling entirely too responsive, as he urged her to follow, through the haze, through darkness, over the crest, beyond the abyss.

* * *

Pleasure could be such an elusive quarry, the demon pondered in the aftermath, watching his little prey under him, defeated and caught. Not for the human but for the demon himself. Hunger could be sated either by sex or souls. Preferences aside, quality and quantity of either mattered. Sebastian moved a bit away, parting from Mouser, allowing her some rest. Maybe he had been a bit too demanding. She was... drifting contently, a slight dazed smile on her lips. He chuckled softly, caressing her cheek slowly, watching as she reacted with a sound that sounded suspiciously like gravelly a purr, rubbing against his palm.

That said, he had not fed from her. That would defeat the purpose of a covenant. The pleasure he took was more than physical and food as it was being channelled towards her birth.

"Ichor is the blood of demons." Sebastian whispered softly against her ear when she finally began to focus, shivering as warmth began to ebb away, the twitching and sighing from her pleasure finally clearing from her mind, his fingers displacing a few strands of her hair, searching the brown eyes for understanding. She frowned for a moment, turning to him. "It's the last thing needed to cement this covenant." He continued, fangs apparent once again, longer, sharper, eyes shifting clearly into his more bestial self, raising his arm to his mouth, sinking the white fangs suddenly into his own skin, the ichor welling easily. Undistinguishable from blood unless one knew the qualities it possessed. Unusable by any other. Simply taking his blood would kill the fool who dared it.

The deep cut was placed against her lips abruptly, forcing them open.

Mouser hissed and choked on the ichor, forcing herself to swallow, her body fighting it by simple instinct, trying to breathe and break away from the strange substance filling her mouth. Her eyes started to change, slowly with each pull, the fight lessening although the taste and slickness of it made her queasy. Silently Sebastian slid his wrist away when he deigned it enough as she panted, gasping for air, twin trails of dark red sliding down the corners of her mouth, eyes as red as it, the pupils demonic. He gave her a bit of room. Mouser's breathing was ragged, heartbeat quick, the pain of her mortality burning away breaking into her mind, making her scream suddenly, curling into herself.

Sebastian watched carefully for any signs of rejection, of further change, licking his wrist to close the wound before his hands slid over her body, soothing the agony in long languorous strokes, finding each of his previous discoveries, using them to their advantage, her pained screams ebbing into occasional whimpers when his touch wasn't enough to calm down the viciousness to the blood that worked in the change from within.

"It will be over soon." He reassured her in a low tone. She snarled, curling as his hands worked on her back, darkening nails piercing the mattress suddenly, displaying a first onslaught of strength.

"I'm going to heave..." The complaint came softly and murmured as Mouser looked slightly over her shoulder.

"I'd be forced to give you more ichor if you do." Sebastian gave her a particularly unhelpful smile while moving onto her legs.

"Motivation not to..." Mouser started slowly, gagging with a choked sound, eye widening in a sudden panic, covering her mouth with her palm, groaning, gulping a few times.

"This time around it should taste better." He reassured her playfully.

Mouser grunted, tensing before shouting again, the pain ripping her away from him, her fangs shaping slowly, gradually. Her red eyes then closed little by little as the first pains of the shift ebbed away, collapsing on Sebastian's bed with an exhausted sigh.

In a day or so she would have become a newborn female, Sebastian appraised, covering her gently.

* * *

There was no sign of Mouser when Meyrin woke up and perched the round glasses on her nose, looking around the faintly lit room they shared. It was early morning, the light dull and grey and the sound of rain touching the walls and windows outside, and the maid felt proud that she was getting more and more capable of waking up on her own. It was a point of pride as a household maid though nobody could manage to wake up earlier than the butler. Books, clothes and weapons were in the places they had been discarded, some neatly placed, others just left wherever they had fallen.

That was not unusual.

She was not in the kitchen when the maid had walked down, already dressed and ready to start the day although Meyrin partially expected to see Mouser chatting with Bard, both smoking and making a fuss about their gambling gains and losses. Most likely that absence meant she had taken the tea and gone to the study or library to sort the Young Master's mail and tasks before being called by either him or Sebastian.

It happened from time to time. But when she asked Bard, who was grumpily staring at the table, still sleepy and Finny, who devoured his breakfast happily, glancing eagerly outside despite the light drizzle, neither had seen her.

It wasn't her day off either. Mouser used those to go to London often returning with a grumpy expression glossing over a happy demeanour and iron-curled hair, looking like a little porcelain doll and completely irked by any mention to it, saying only that her friend loved dressing up.

They hadn't crossed paths throughout the day.

That was slightly stranger as the pauses they had usually brought them together in the kitchen or in the room Meyrin would be cleaning. From time to time Mouser pitched in the dusting while they talked. But the lack of contact still happened, especially when the Young Master ordered some sort of special task or the letters that arrived needed more attention than usual.

Mouser was not there when the Young Master was having lunch and was missing when the servants got a break to eat something themselves.

So Meyrin was staring to grow worried as the hours passed. The maid fidgeted for a moment with her skirt, walking through the corridors once again, checking the rooms, finding, thinking if she already cleaned that one or that one, before returning to the kitchen staring at the butler. If anyone knew it would be him, wouldn't it?

"Sebastian... I haven't seen Mouser..." The maid began, stammering a bit, straightening, stiffening and ceasing breathing for an instant, shivering a bit when Sebastian glanced at her.

"She was feeling unwell this morning." Sebastian paused for an instant as he displayed the ingredients needed to prepare that day's pastries. "I urged her to take the day off."

The maid sighed, touching her chest for a moment, calmed.

Then her imagination got to work, creating a grand swoon near the staircase with the butler catching her dramatically, recreating the scene of one of the books, all lace and ruffle's and somewhat sparkly. The maid's face heated up suddenly and brightly, catching and following up on the idea as she wandered away, stuttering.

* * *

Mouser sighed covering her ears for a moment thankful for the night's silence, eyes closed, breathing slowly. Her hands slid away from her face unhurriedly, staring at them. The nails had turned fully black and looked glossy and sharpened. No longer bluntly short but oval-shaped, the tip razor sharp as the shreds on the sheets had proved.

It had been like waking up with a hangover on top of the worst period cramps any woman had ever endured, adding that to a fever and a beating. Sounds, scents, what she could see, what she could feel seemed too intense, too vivid. Occasionally something else had flickered on the edge of her growing senses. There were moments where all she could feel was power, strength. Then she felt unsteady and weakened. But the discomfort was fading away, bit by bit and as night came she felt almost normal.

It was just a matter of growing accustomed to that kind of sensibility...


	10. Chapter 10

"I see. The Ice Top Market is quite something." Sebastian commented, looking around, watching the beige fabric tents set over the thick sheet of ice covering the river's surface, forming a square shaped corridor, and the crowd as they entered the fair.

Mouser looked around too, walking carefully over the ice suppressing a shiver every time her ears caught the sound of a creak under her heels. Her mind was telling her that the ice was thick enough to support a lot of weight and shock but being able to hear the tiniest sound was proving a disadvantage in such a situation. The sheer amount of people was also bothering her slightly.

On the other hand it was indeed something rather unique and beautiful in its own way. There had been no signs of snow, yet the cold had been harsh enough to cover the Thames in a thick plaque of ice while they were still in mid-November. And people wanted to enjoy it for as long as it lasted.

"The Frost Fayre takes place next to London Bridge on the frozen river Thames. The last time it was this grand was back in 1814, apparently." Curiosity had made the boyo come out of his manor after reading the news on the morning paper, walking around with the appraising eye of a businessman bundled up in a fur-lined winter cape.

Pedlars and shopkeepers praised their wares loudly, trying to outshine each other, to gather more clientele, to take as much money as possible. Games were being played. Food was being sold. It was a mix between noble, bourgeois and working class with a few members of the criminal class in between. Cutpurses ran swiftly through the people gathered around the tents. Swindlers tried their pitch, tricking the unawares.

The boyo huffed, smirking slightly while looking at one of the displays, stopping abruptly, his attention caught on something, the passerby instinctively sidestepping him and the black clad pair.

"What is the matter?" Sebastian asked calmly, glancing towards the Young Master's focus point. Mouser moved a bit to prevent one of the young thieves from approaching, winking and smiling when he recognized her after a bit of staring. Tim waved back, a wide grin covering his face, and disappeared again on the crowd. If word got around there would be less worrying about light fingers on her part.

"All the wares they have lined up here are shoddy." The boyo appraised, his attention shifting around the stalls once again. "If the ice freezes like this next year we could clean up with a stall here. That, for example." His cane pointed towards one of the items displayed.

"Oh, Young Nobleman, I see you have quite the eye." The shopkeeper lost no time, seizing what he thought was a golden chance. The boyo spared him only a glance. It didn't deter him. "That is an item made by the now hugely popular Funtom Company when it was still a small craft shop." The man announced proudly.

"What a total fake." The boyo dismissed the item, looking away, resuming his stride. "The Funtom Ark enjoyed by the last generation was made by the most skilled craftsman and it was extremely rare and valuable item because only three were made." He started to explain for the benefit of those who followed him. "Since the mansion burned down, even the current company doesn't have the real item anymore. There's no way there would be a real one here."

Mouser frowned for a moment. It was hard to tell if he was forlorn about it or just stating a fact.

"It is still a toy any child would love to have." She mentioned softly. "Forgery or not."

"Noah's Ark is a lot like this country." Sebastian said looking unimpressed.

"What?" The boyo stopped, glancing over his shoulder.

"A ship steered by a single boatman. The ones who will be saved are the select few." The demon smiled in a mask of agreeability. Mouser smirked, looking around. The select few... those with money and status. The rest of them would scurry around and die. "It is a most arrogant tale."

Ciel simply huffed, disregarding his opinion.

"You're..." A man's voice rose softly from the right, a passerby stopping suddenly, staring. Mouser stiffened, recognizing a man of the Yard. She almost took her gloved hands to her mouth to whistle a warning before recalling her new employed position, pursing her lips together to keep silent.

"To see one of Scotland Yard's detectives has enough free time to dawdle around here I suppose London must really be at peace." The boyo said with a straight face, watching as the man grew flustered.

"I don't. I'm on duty right now."

"Well then, work hard enough to earn your keep on behalf of Her Majesty and the people who employ you, inspector." Translation _you're dismissed and bothersome_. With that he turned around. Mouser sighed, doing the same. Sebastian moved too, fluidly with a polite nod.

"Wait." It took the man a few long seconds to react, running to catch them. "I have something to ask you! Master Ciel..." he shouted, reaching for the Boyo's shoulder, his hand sharply slapped away by Sebastian, the trio stopping once again.

"Please excuse me." Sebastian said, calmly, watching as the detective backed away a couple of startled steps. "As you can see our Master is quite frail..." She heard the small huff from within the Boyo's hood, his head tilting slightly while glaring at the butler. "I mean delicate." Mouser snorted, knowing the correction did little to ease the jab, covering her lips with her fingertips. "So I would ask you not to lay you hands on him too roughly."

* * *

"There was a dead man from some criminal organization in the ice. It seems a pricy blue diamond ring is missing." Mouser said opening her eyes slowly, allowing her attention to expand once again a slight red tint underlining the dark brown colour for the briefest moment, the contrast showcasing her demonic pupils a bit more sharply. Sebastian smiled, nodding slowly, standing in front of her, shielding them from the crowd's eyes. She wobbled, touching her forehead for a moment, distracting herself from the slight headache created by the strain of so many people resonating on overly sensitive perceptions and the attempt at focusing solely on that area, on that person. "Also this is Lau's restaurant tent."

"You are improving fast." Sebastian praised, caressing her cheek.

"It is a habit. Do it right or you'll hurt, the Headmistress used to say." Mouser sighed, catching his hand, giving it a quick squeeze, keeping it against her chilled skin. "I'll go ask Tim if he knows who the bloke was."

"Be quick about it." Sebastian said looking around.

"Aye, aye." Mouser smiled slightly, letting go, walking into the crowd once again, reaching down suddenly, grabbing Tim by the scruff as soon as his had had slid wallet safely from its owner's pocket, dragging him towards an alley in-between tents as he struggled silently. "It's just me kiddo, stop squirming."

"Mouser?" Tim turned on her grasp and allowed a breath out. "Blimey, I thought I was a goner, I was. So how's working with the high ups?"

"Surprising. That's all I'm saying." She looked around quickly, still able to see Sebastian's head over the crowd, still standing near the restaurant tent. "How much would information cost me?"

"On what?" Tim his face brightened, smiling, showing a chipped tooth, eyes bright in-between a mop of brown hair. He was a bit younger than the boyo, dressing in mismatched clothes and hiding most of his face in an oversized scarf. He was a slick burglar, runner and one of those people who often were more knowledgeable about what was going on than they let on. He was one of the boys that had no loyalty, using gang protection only when it suited them, surviving on the fringes and scraps. While vulnerable in one way he wouldn't be targeted by others.

"The dead chap they fished out of the river this morning." She specified, wincing when a man with a music box playing London Bridge nursery rhyme walked by, the sounds a bit dissonant and sharp.

"Four shilling."

"You damn robber." Mouser chuckled, giving him the silver coins, companionably, ruffling his hair, knowing she had the money to spare.

"He was part of the Irish." Tim pocketed the coins happily, rubbing his hands together. "Those barmy blighters that have been bombing places..."

"I saw the papers. Are they around?" Mouser sighed.

"Ayup... I've seen them skulking about. What are they getting at?"

"Money, what else. But the Yard's on their tails." Mouser sighed and looked around. "Thanks Tim. By the way... Coppers." He saluted, slipping away quickly as she returned to the tent once more, catching them as the boyo walked out accompanied by the detective and Lau, the inspector guiding them, looking overly serious and worried.

* * *

Undertaker? He had a tent set up on the Frost Fayre? Well... he would appear in the oddest places but that? Mouser sighed softly, looking at the boyo, arms crossed under the cape. His face was a façade of incredulity and also looked a bit off-colour. Sebastian made no comment.

"Is it really here?" He asked slowly, clearly doubting his eyes.

"Yeah. Apparently a few people have died of frostbite so he decided to set up a shop." The inspector clarified, looking at the sign too, seemingly not knowing who he would be dealing with. Most likely he assumed that it was just another of London's undertakers.

"Earl, the name of the shop... it can't be..." Lau began slowly, his face looking a bit more serious than usual.

Aberlain ignored the Chinese, adopting a professional demeanour.

"Since I specially permitted you to tag along, please wait here, outside." The inspector reached for the doorknob, leaning to open it, failing completely to keep his balance when the door was revealed as a simple painted fabric flap that made the man fall flatly into the tent, closing behind him with a whoosh and resuming looking like a wooden object.

"How reckless." The boyo commented.

"That is but a privilege of youth."Lau retorted philosophically before pausing, allowing silence to reign. "So, where is it?"

"The Undertaker's shop! We met him during the Jack the Ripper incident, remember?" Ciel took a few deep breaths to compose himself after the small fit of anger, sighing, glancing at his butler as Lau's expression changed to a display of understanding. "He'll be in tears in a moment. Sebastian, get ready to..."

The Undertaker's loud laugh echoed on the ice, accompanied by the shocked faces of the group.

Lau opened the flap, allowing them to enter, catching sight of a bewildered Aberlain and a twitching Undertaker still chuckling.

"You're amazing. You have definitely chosen the wrong profession." The Undertaker straightened slowly. "As a comic you could have been world renowned." He commented, clapping his hands together, forgetting to wipe a bit of drool from the corner of his mouth, still shaking with barely contained laughter.

"Just what did you do?" The boyo asked, shocked.

"I... I just started talking like I normally do..." The inspector stammered out, looking around, as confused as any of in his company. "but then this guy suddenly..."

"Oooh..." Mouser chuckled abruptly, caught off guard by the sudden realization of what the joke entailed. The Undertaker joined in, both cracking up laughing.

"Aberlain... what a fearsome person..." Ciel grated out grudgingly as Sebastian moved in, standing behind the boyo, his expression dark.

"It seems you are quite skilled Mr. Inspector." Mouser stopped sharing giggles with the Undertaker, catching on the mood. Jealousy towards a skill? His expression alone was enough to intimidate the inspector, closed, cold, narrowed eyes and thinned lips.

"No, I'm just..." Aberlain raised his hands, stammering.

Mouser sighed and slid one arm around Sebastian's, leaning against him. As a demon butler he took pride in his job. Having it taken unintentionally by a do-gooder was a bit of a blow to the pride.

"We were laughing at him, not with him." She murmured soothingly, intertwining her fingers with his. Sebastian turned slightly towards her, opening his mouth to speak.

The sound of gloved hands banging against the wooden coffin snapped them out of that little side talk, the attention brought once again to the Earl of Phantomhive. Lau looked over his shoulder from the crouching position he had adopted to watch the show of comedian rivalry.

"Tell us about the Ring, Undertaker" Ciel demanded, authoritarian. However that mood just flew over the Undertaker's head, busy as he was chuckling to himself. "the one the body you disposed of this morning was supposed to have."

"There's a possibility that it was buried around the area he was found in." Aberlain piped in, helpful to a fault. "I implore you on behalf of the good citizens of London, such as yourself, please assist us with the investigation." Mouser snorted and buried her face against Sebastian's arm, stifling her laughter.

"I have been highly impressed by you inspector. I'll tell you. Come along..." The Undertaker crossed the room slowly, walking outside, still shivering with laughter.

"You know the Undertaker?" Sebastian asked, unsurprised by that outcome, both parting as the flap was opened, as propriety ordered, walking side by side as secretary and butler, formal and dry. The outside appearances should be carefully kept. In the manor it was no secret though. And had been quite a shock to the servants when he had moved Mouser into his room.

"I was a client provider." Mouser said, blinking as they crossed into the grey light, steadying her step. "Occasionally one needed information too." She completed, adjusting the gloves.

The Undertaker's hat swayed around, guiding them through the fair, to the outskirt where a stage and a long table had been set, an ice statue of an elegantly clad lady placed on a pedestal against the bridges' background.

"See? Over there." The Undertaker stated, pointing at the statues' sculpted hands where the ring sparkled daintily.

Aberlain screamed in shock. It had been displayed and unsecure all along, placed for all the Fayre to see.

"I guess one of the ice sculptures here just happened to come across the frozen ring and in order to take advantage of it they made it into a statue." Lau appraised, smiling blissfully, ignoring the inspector's distress.

Mouser's eyes narrowed at the familiar design of the ring, glancing down at the boyo's hand.

"Get it out. Right now." Aberlain screamed, flustered, signalling his men.

"Understood." Two coppers advanced, reaching for the statue.

Mouser sidestepped them slowly, partially moving behind Sebastian, reacting to the uniform of the police before catching herself and stopping all movement. Sebastian threw her an amused glance.

"What are you doing you ignorant whelp?" A portly bearded man stepped forth suddenly from a group of two other males and a conservatively dressed pair of women, glaring at the group.

"That holy maiden is something that will be presented to the winner. You mustn't touch it." The man clad in white moved dramatically to the left of the group, tossing blond locks away from his face.

"Viscount Druitt." The boyo grated out suddenly, stiffening, as if having bout of abhorrence. Mouser frowned for a moment, stepping forward, standing next to him. There was something familiar about the Viscount.

"Young Master... They seem to be the judges for the ice sculpture contest announced on the paper." She informed softly, covering his issues.

"The contest Judges?" Ciel repeated, still stiff, frozen in loathing. "Why is he one of them?" The boyo hissed slowly, clearly suppressing a shiver of revulsion.

"Wasn't he taken by Scotland Yard for people trafficking?" Lau asked suddenly.

_People trafficking_. It became clear all of a sudden. One of the benefactors...

"He was released a few days ago." Aberlain said, his voice clearly carrying the weight of anger that he would be unable to use against the nobleman.

"Money, huh." Ciel breathed, his face blank. Mouser nodded in agreement, keeping her expression guarded.

"I'm sorry. Scotland Yard will have to take this statue into possession now." Aberlain turned to the bearded man, trying to negotiate a compromise, to make him see that it was not whim, that his actions were backed by the Crown's authority.

"No! Even if you are from Scotland Yard we will not permit anyone to have their own way at the frost Fayre, the peak of excitement for all the townsfolk." The bearded man was inflexible, roaring against the coppers, leaning towards the overly dramatic.

"Beauty is something to be adored." Druitt moved in, taking a white rose from his winter jacket, the two matrons staring at him like he was the paragon of men. "Are you people trying to force shame on this beautiful maiden?"

"Like you're one to talk." The boyo muttered.

"The Young Master seems to be talking from experience." Mouser whispered staring at the man in white antics her expression slightly mocking. Instead of a glare there was a shudder under the winter cloak.

"If you really want her just bring enough beauty to satisfy her." Druitt was moving around, theatrically displaying his inclinations. Then his eyes seemed to focus on Mouser with sudden appraisal. "My, my... If only one could offer a beauty such as yourself my little raven..." The viscount was there suddenly, picking up Mouser's gloved hand, throwing a charming smile that made the spinsters behind him blush. Mouser shuddered, her free hand twitching for one of her guns. "The holy maiden will still be cold and unattainable... but the mystery of a raven attracts the eyes... makes him wonder if she could be captured."

"How kind of you to say so." She said through clenched teeth, fangs becoming just a bit more noticeable in her grimace, retrieving her hand as soon as it was possible, hiding it behind her back, clearly caressing her guns, stepping back. "But the thing about ravens is that they will peck your eyes out for touching their talons and those ladies would deem that a shame."

"A wild raven then, one that would be a challenge to tame..." The viscount still smiled, the bodily harm threat clearly dissipating over the barrier of his personal pink and sparkly world.

Mouser choked on a curse and turned to the boyo.

"I withdraw my teasing earlier and wholeheartedly agree with your prior appraisal." She said stiffly as the bearded man sang Druitt's praises. "Barmy wanker." Mouser added curtly.

"He clearly doesn't seem to remember ravens are closely linked to death and darkness." Sebastian appraised, smiling coldly behind them.

"Well, caw caw." Mouser gritted out, shifting her position a bit, crossing her arms, eyes rolling. "Prat."

"As expected from one who loves art beauty and cuisine. It's as Viscount Druitt says. If you want this statue win the contest." The bearded man announced after all the prancing around and dramatic antics.

"I see." The boyo regained his confidence. "I can agree with that. The ring will belong to the one who wins the contest. It's simple and clean."

"Master Ciel?" Aberlain interjected.

"I will obtain this ring."

"That's a stolen object." The inspector was starting to grow slightly angry. "It's also important evidence in the serial kidnapping of several young girls!" He stopped, covering his mouth suddenly, looking away guiltily.

"I see. So, that's why the Scotland Yard is in such a frenzy searching for it." The boyo drawled out smoothly.

"And I'll bet you all of them are wealthy or noble." Mouser said, smirking.

"Even so it is true that those in possession of the ring have met ill fates, one after the other. It really does fit its name of cursed stone and yet you still..." Aberlain was growing desperate and turning to superstition as a dissuasive method.

"Cursed huh..." The boyo smirked, raising his left hand to his mouth, his own blue diamond gleaming in the greyish sunlight. "Then it does really fit me"

"That reminds me. Your ring also has a beautiful blue stone set in, doesn't it, Earl." The Undertaker noticed too, joining in, receiving a nod from the Earl. "You should be careful. Diamonds are hard but for all their hardness they're fragile." The grey haired man advised, still smiling. "If you overexert yourself too much it may shatter."

"What of it?" The boyo dismissed the warning calmly. "This body and this ring..." His lips touched the stone. "are both things that have been shattered and been revived. As if I would fear them shattering after everything I've been through." Mouser smiled, noticing a similar expression, a darker one, crossing Sebastian's features. He was responsible for both it seemed. As for fear... The boyo's soul flickered suddenly in her senses, sharply. Her lips parted in surprise but the glimpse was soon over. "Win the contest Sebastian." The order was definite in his voice, without the need to state it.

"Yes My Lord."Sebastian's answer was the same as always, sounding proud and sure.

* * *

"And now we will commence the traditional Frost Fayre ice sculpture contest." The announcer's voice rang out, drowning the crowd's, the participants lined behind him on the stage. The Yard coppers, Lau, Sebastian and a trio of unknown males, dressed in simple clothes, their scent filled with gunpowder. Mouser sneezed as the wind changed, catching it. Those should be the Irish. "The time limit is three pm. Well then. Please begin!"

* * *

"Well then we shall now begin judging." The people had gathered once more as Big Ben's clock rang the time, echoing throughout the frozen Thames. "First up is the "Joyful Scotland Yard" team with their guardian of London." It was a life-sized statue of Lord Randal. In itself wasn't a bad effort but the subject... well... "Please give your marks. one, two, one, one, zero. A total of five points." The coppers and Aberlain looked dejected at the score and then noticed the ice had begun to crack, the head falling off, shattering on the boards. "Next is the "China Dress is Best in Miniskirt Form" team but... due to circumstances beyond our control we are not able to judge it here."

A nude statue of RanMao who posed in the exactly same position, standing next to a bewildered Lau, as a couple of white flags held by blushing men covered the ice breasts and crotch of the piece. Of course the prudish nature of the Victorian public would protest.

"Why?" Lau asked suddenly.

"There is no way they could show that in public." The boyo shouted, blushing, giving the Chinese a fierce glare.

"But I think hiding it like that is more perverted" Lau pouted, nodding slowly, ruefully.

Mouser chuckled, watching the blushing and frowning judges refusing to score the piece. Except for Viscount Druitt who held a ten, smiling happily.

The boyo shook his head in frustration, looking towards the butler who stood next to him.

"You can win, right Sebastian?"

"Of course. Once you have given an order I exist but to fulfil it." The butler looked towards the stage unemotionally.

"Next up is the "Queen's Woof Woof" team with Noah's Ark." The announcer shouted, moving on. Mouser chuckled, turning as the fabric that had hid his work felt.

"Lovely naming sense." She mentioned, looking at the ice ark. It was beautiful. It made even the boyo crack a gentle smile. Amazingly his face didn't shatter.

"What magnificent proportions" The bearded man stood suddenly, all the judges staring in awe at the work. "This is precisely what ice art is" He appraised emotionally.

"This is amazing." The announcer continued, keeping the mood. "Well then please give your results"

"Please wait one moment." Sebastian stepped forth, raising his voice. "You have not seen everything yet." He stated, raising his arm, fingers snapping, the sound making the ice react, the top of the ark cracking in straight lines, falling next to the sculpted wave that held the sculpture, making the ice groan under Mouser's heels much to her dismay, revealing a centrepiece of animals artistically balanced and placed.

_Amazing. It's like its alive_. Those words echoed through the astounded crowd.

"I see he made the joints in the roof weak on purpose so that in time they'd melt and fall off." The bearded man's amazement only seem to grow as he stared at the piece.

"Oh... Oh..." Druitt's voice rose suddenly, all drama. "God's rage! The only one to escape unscathed in the blazing storm was Noah. Leading his paired animals, waiting for the time of regeneration as they drift upon the waves." Mouser and Ciel exchanged a grimace.

"Young man I am completely astounded! To be able to see such a high class ice sculptor..." The bearded judge had turned to Sebastian, heaping praise onto him.

"No, I am just one hell of a butler." Sebastian smiled, hiding behind the polite mask, tilting his head slightly as if that effort meant nothing.

"Well then let's go to the grading!" The announcer picked up the pace once more, turning to the judged, stopping suddenly in mid movement as one of the Irish men stood next to the Ice Maiden statue, pointing a gun at the stage.

"Wait right there." The man shouted, dragging all attentions towards him. "This ring was originally ours. Sorry but I'll have you return it."

"What? You people aren't the..." Aberlain moved, staring at the Irish.

"That's right. We're the bombing thief ring that's been the talk of the town lately." He flapped his jacket open, showing a myriad of dynamite sticks strapped to his waist, clicking a flame to life on a rather large lighter. "I'll count down from ten. If you don't want to die then get lost. Ten."

"Young master?" Sebastian asked, moving a bit closer.

"My orders haven't changed." The boyo stated calmly as people ran away around them, as the coppers tried to help and as the countdown echoed slowly. "Do it Sebastian."

"Yes my lord."

"What are you doing? Get out of there this minute Master Ciel. Young lady, please make him leave!" Aberlain shouted suddenly as the last people reached the frozen margin, turning to the boyo. Mouser lit a cigarette, happily, unable to resist the urge to any longer.

"If you want to run then do so. Don't pay any attention to me." The boyo said, self assured as she adjusted the gloves, ignoring the inspector.

"Like I could do that." Aberlain shouted suddenly, attracting their attention. "I became a police officer so I could protect the people. In order to protect everyone!"

"What an idiot." Ciel whispered as the inspector started to run towards him. Mouser nodded in agreement, quietly, before the inspector was stopped by a shot near his feet, forcing him to a halt.

"Don't get one step closer." The bomber shouted, pointing the gun steadily. "I'm down to the last three. Are you really not gonna run little noblemen?" He pointed the gun towards the boyo's head. Mouser smirked behind him, her hand sliding softly over the back of the Earl's neck, ready to move if Sebastian came in late.

"I have no need to." The boyo said clearly before a black shape skated by, kicking the gun away from the Irish's hand, sliding gracefully on the ice.

"What?" The other two Irish shouted, surprised, shooting, frightened.

"That's the legendary quadruple spin jump!" The bearded man shouted from the bank, staring as as they got disarmed and knocked down by Sebastian skating.

"It's the gallant blackbird dancing upon a world of white and silver!" Druitt's voice carried clearly through the cold air, as entranced by the performance as the other onlookers. "Enchanted by that smirking face, being overcome with delight, maidens reach for those wings."

Mouser hissed, stiffening. Ciel shuddered, disgusted.

"I sleep with him... for goodness sake stop making it feel creepy." She whispered.

"Saying that is not helping _me_ in the least." The boyo grumbled, looking away.

"Ten, ten, ten, ten, ten. It's a full score." The announcer shouted suddenly as Sebastian skated rings around the ruffians. Mouser chuckled and glanced at the bomber, tightening her hold suddenly on the boyo's scruff.

"Damns you brat." The Irish shouted, lighting a dynamite stick. "Be blown to smithereens then." The stick came flying towards them.

Mouser moved briskly, lifting Ciel off the ice, tossing him sideways, making him yelp before getting caught in Sebastian's arms and moved out of the danger area balanced like a silver platter. She jumped away quickly, avoiding the explosion as the demon slid around the man, attracting the explosive throws.

"Damns that monster" the Irish shouted after the failed explosions.

"Stop it boss have you forgotten?" One of his cronies grabbed his arm before he could light another stick. "We're on ice." He shouted, voice shivering with fright.

Mouser smirked, picking her cigarette, blowing smoke softly to the side. The bombers looked at her suddenly. Sebastian was too far away now. She arched an eyebrow and brought her heel down hard on the weakening ice, digging it into the slab, pulling it out. Controlling her new growing strength was a good trick. And one she had no need for at the moment. Spidery cracks started to spread and soon it all shattered.

Sebastian was spinning, gaining speed as the ice ran to crack around him, making the boyo scream, losing the winter cloak, watching as he was throwing him upwards, smirking. Mouser sighed, tossing the cigarette into the murky water. Well... If that was a test to her too... She took a deep breath, running, dodging broken slabs, hopping from one to another, gathering height as one tilted up, before jumping as high as she could, catching the boyo, landing on the ice ark.

"Spooked boyo?" She whispered against his ear, hugging him tightly before letting go, straightening as Sebastian joined them, tossing the ice skates overboard.

"The ship sails leaving behind people's despair!" Druitt's voice echoed through the air, letting them know they could be seen from the bank. "The ship sails alone with the world's future carrying the chosen hope with it. Onward to a winding, dreamlike journey, the ship sails." The matrons were still blushing and worshiping him. The others seemed too shocked to speak.

"That was a rather rough method." The boyo complained, looking straight ahead.

"I apologise." The demons answered in tandem, bowing slightly, exchanging a sly smile behind his back. The boyo frowned, not amused. Sebastian was the one who continued. "I only thought that ridding myself of the baggage weighing me down was the most appropriate course of action." The boyo chose to let that go after an aggravated grunt, looking forward.

"And so the shard of hope will sleep at the bottom of the Thames. I suppose that is amusing in its own way."

"It will curse London." Sebastian mentioned.

"If it ended like that, then it would show that it was all there was to this town and country. After all we Phantomhives have always..." The boyo appraised, staring at his own cursed ring and then to the margin where Aberlain was trying to fish out the bombers from the frosty river. "Sebastian you said Noah was arrogant, but isn't wishing to save everyone even more arrogant and foolish?"

"It appears so." Not yes, nor no. Not agreeing or disagreeing. And yet it did look like either.

"However every so often an idiot like that isn't so bad." There was an expression of calm in the boyo's face, the disdain he displayed gone.

Mouser sighed.

"That was the joke." The thief said.


	11. Chapter 11

The door burst open suddenly as Mouser walked down the stairs passing the schedule to Sebastian, making sure everything was as it should, while he was following the Young Master to the dining room. A flash of pink and blond made a sudden dash towards the boyo, tackling him into a hug and spinning him around while screaming his name in a girlish voice, giggling playfully.

Mouser blinked a few times, stopping on her tracks, confused, looking at Sebastian for guidance.

"The Young Master's fiancé." The butler clarified, standing dignified amidst the yelps for help the boyo occasionally slipped out of the pink hurricane.

"Truly?" A few more blinks before she shook her head. It was to be expected, wasn't it? Mouser smiled softly. That was rather adorable actually.

"Here! This is for you." The pink girl announced happily, placing a small box in Ciel's hands as the boyo was barely able to stand due to the shock of being swung around like a stuffed toy. He was allowed to regain his footing after a few deep breaths. "Open it. Quick, quick." She shook his hand, big green eyes watching every move he made, growing suddenly wide, the smile she wore fading a bit as she noticed the ring, grabbing his hand, stopping him from opening the box, dragging it closer to examine. "Wh...What? I thought I broke that." Her voice was a mix of bewilderment, shame and sadness. It went unnoticed by the boyo.

"Ah. Sebastian repaired it." The Earl explained, looking at her, not understanding the point of her question, still holding the box's crimson ribbon.

"No way! It was all cracked." She turned Ciel's and around, shifting the way the light played over the metal and diamond. "I don't even see any flaws."

"Such skill is only natural for one..." Sebastian began, bowing formally.

"Who serves as a butler to the Phantomhives." The boyo completed with a neutral tone.

"Exactly as you say." The butler straightened with an acknowledgment nod.

Mouser's eyes narrowed, examining the girl's growing sadness.

"I see. Sebastian..." She whispered looking a bit away.

"My Lady..." Her maid approached, a pleasant looking woman with brown eyes and hair, looking at her mistress worriedly.

"Lady Elizabeth, what is in that little box?" Sebastian asked suddenly.

Elizabeth grew flustered, chuckling, plucking the box away from the boyo's hands, quickly, cradling it protectively, away, hiding it behind her back after a second thought.

"Ah... is just... huh... a secret."

"Secret." Both master and butler said, confused.

Mouser smirked. Ah. Guilt.

"Didn't you say you were going to give it to me?" Ciel looked at her, clueless.

"That was a feint." She straightened and applied a playful demeanour over her disappointment.

"Feint?"

"A lady who tries to catch a man with gifts is no lady." She covered her lips with one hand, closing her eyes as if her words were shocking, coyly. "It's unseemly. Now Paula ring your bells." She ordered with a giggle, looking towards the maid.

"Yes, my Lady." Paula almost jumped, picking a pair of bell bracelets from her pockets. "Jingle jingle jingle." She sing-sang along with the shakes of the metal chimes.

"Well then, good day to you." Elizabeth waved happily, grabbing the maid, both dashing to the door, disappearing, the sound of their carriage going away echoing for a moment.

"So what did she come over for, then? The boyo asked himself out loud, confused. Mouser chuckled, ruffling his hair. "And why are you smiling?"

"That was so sweet boyo. Anyhow..." She tiptoed, kissing Sebastian's lips slowly, cupping his face. His arms went around her waist, steadying her, pulling her body closer. It was the light and quick version. The boyo was blushing hard despite it, when they parted. Petty teasing perhaps but he never said a thing, pretending not to be even remotely shocked. There was a sudden crash in the hall, a yelp made by Meyrin catching the end of the show.

"I'll see you tonight." Mouser said, walking towards the door. Day off.

* * *

"I have a question Charlotte." Mouser crushed her cigarette on the silver ashtray, staring at the daintily painted tea set positioned in-between them. Charlotte placed her teacup down and smiled, leaning on her chair. She was wearing a loose housedress with a delicate blue flower pattern and her cinnamon hair was simply tied in a ponytail. No makeup accentuated her features or softened the icy glint in her blue eyes. There was no doubt that she was beautiful. And there was no doubt that she was ruthless.

"Out with it." For Charlotte those times seemed to be a relief. When she didn't have to act demure and smile at people she would rather throw in the Thames tied to anvils. Mouser didn't complain about the unabashed answers and sharpness of tone. They knew each other for too long to take offence.

"Viscount Druitt."

Her friend thought back for a moment, her expression clouding.

"Fridays. Virgins. Started two years before we left."

"I see. So it wasn't my imagination." Mouser sighed. "Just checking."

"I guess you might see a lot of our benefactors from time to time. When I started... Well I made sure to get the right patrons. Now _they_ pay me reparations." Charlotte smiled coldly, referencing her blackmailing habits, the ones that further supported her lifestyle, looking around the richly decorated room. For a courtesan she had a cutthroat way of running her life. It was something her patrons rarely noticed until it was too late. By the time they wanted to toss her aside she knew more about their lives and business than them and their servants. And could utterly destroy them with one well placed phrase. That alone kept her reputation safe and placed her in invitation lists few could land. Then there was her small private army, the chain of servants that spied for her, creating a gossip network that would make the ladies of the literary salons and possibly the Scotland Yard jealous to the pit of their souls, and her connections to the underworld. "So how is it going?"

"I'll concede you were right about the sex part." Charlotte laughed along with Mouser.

* * *

The sound of heels from above made Mouse stop her search for a carriage, looking up towards the night sky and the crescent moon that graced it, catching a flash of red jumping from roof to roof. She caressed a dagger gently, arms crossed under the cape, frowning thoughtfully. Then she saw something else in the shadows at the end of the street. The boyo was trying to control Pluto, groaning in vain effort, being dragged towards an alley by the devil dog's leash. No Sebastian in sight.

The thief sighed, walking in that direction briskly, noticing that no one was in sight, peeking over the corner carefully, appraising the situation. There was a red haired dandy-like man with a red jacket over a suit's waistcoat and prim trousers, wearing red-rimmed glasses accessorized with skull chains. The boyo didn't seem friendly towards him. He didn't seem friendly towards anyone, but still there was a bit more hostility there than used on the averaged annoyance.

"Because of the Madam Red incident I was demoted and have nothing but boring, lowly jobs." The dandy was saying in a dramatically charged voice, going from deep to high in seconds. It wasn't unpleasant, just strange. It was amazing how he could keep from feeling too ridiculous as some of the nobles when they tried to follow the most flamboyant fashions. "That bastard Will told me I can't return to work until I've retrieved some troublesome souls. That rotten sadist." Then the angry tone shifted to a thoughtful and girlish whisper. "Well food is better when it's about to go rotten and those cold eyes send chills up my spine." A blissful smile appeared on his lips, its effect a contrast with the sharp teeth, hugging himself for a moment before devoting his attention the audience. "However this one's wildness is hard to ignore." The dandy appraised, looking down at the white haired, crouching figure. Ciel's teeth were clenched. The man in red adjusted his glasses, smiling down at the boyo. "You're not about to tell me you're going to take revenge for your beloved aunt, are you?"

"Shut up." The boyo shouted,

"It looks like Sebastian isn't around either." The dandy continued, egging him on, picking easily on the helplessness of a kid. "What can a brat like you do?"

"Shut up." The boyo shouted again, making Pluto growl.

"Your knight tonight is him?" He looked at Pluto with some surprise before scoffing, glancing annoyed sideways, hands on hips, a slight tap of the boots punctuating the words. "Why does this kid steal all the good men?"

"My personal opinion is that he collects them." Mouser said audibly, walking towards the boyo, her heels clicking softly on the cobblestone, patting Pluto's head, shushing him. The devil dog panted happily, whining when her scratching didn't linger.

"Mouser?" The boyo stared at her, the sound escaping from his lips unrestrained, surprised.

The dandy watched her too, adjusting the glasses once again, eyes narrowed behind the lenses.

"Who are you?" He asked, voice lowering in a slight threateningly way.

"Evelyn Crows." Mouser said pleasantly, smiling, shifting her position a bit, silently, arms under the cape, hands around the gun's that rested against the small of her back, tilting her head towards him. "And you?" The politeness of the tone seemed to blindside the man for a moment because he answered, the threat in his tone gone.

"Grell Sutcliff..." Whatever he was going to add, the tension of the drama already prepared, was cut short by the boyo's gruffness and impatience.

"We don't have time for this." Ciel shook Pluto's leash angrily. "Tell him to search for Lizzy." He ordered quickly.

"Your girl's missing?" Mouser shook her head, disappointed, turning towards the dog, scratching behind his ear once more. "PluPlu. Go."

The devil dog barked happily, dashing forward, barking as he made his way. The dandy shrieked, looking happy when it seemed like the devil dog was in a collision course.

"Oh I'm being assaulted! Please be gentle!" Grell bowed a bit, opening his arms to cradle the dog who ignored him completely, going down the street, turning right. "Hey, what's with this!" The red-clad man protested shrilly, stomping his feminine boots. Nice boots. Mouser noted, ogling them. Very pretty.

"Why does he listen to you?" Ciel groaned, looking sideways at the thief. Mouser shrugged, smirking with a mischievous intent clear on her face.

"I'm allowed on the bed." She answered without any flippancy on her tone, watching the street. The boyo started to run, following the dog. She trailed him at a more sedated pace, keeping an eye on Grell who walked with them for some reason.

The winding darkened brick alleys where the barks echoed brought them to an antique store. Angel Wings Antiques was written on a sight placed above the window display. Grell cleared his throat carefully, opening a thick, leather bound ledger book, searching the entries swiftly when they came to a stop. Pluto was whining, scratching the door.

"Grim Reaper's Death Note" He announced. "#403 Mandalay Family Puppeteer, Drozell Keins." He stated, closing it, making the book disappear as the sound of shattering glass echoed through the lane.

Mouser examined him once again, clicking her tongue. So that was one of the Grim Reapers, the first one the boyo had met.

"Isn't it a bit too convenient that his search brought you to your job?"

Grell tossed his red hair away from his face, smiling dreamily.

"It's the red string of fate that connects me and Sebby together." He stated dramatically.

"He'll be thrilled to hear it, I'm sure." Mouser chuckled, walking into the store. Pluto was biting something, looking their way when they entered. The boyo was having no success in retrieving it from his teeth. "Give it here, PluPlu." Mouser coaxed. He barked and spat the thing happily into her hands, looking hopefully up, waiting from praise. "This is disturbingly familiar..."

A doll replica of the boyo's fiancé was in her hand, detailed from the colours to the dress. She passed it to Ciel who fingered the pink fabric ribbon around the thing's waist, his eye widening in clear recognition, growing agitated under the harsh look he presented the world, looking around for something, anything else. A soft cold breeze brushed his hair away, catching his attention, coming from the opened backdoor, dragging their interest towards what seemed to be a yard.

The boyo lost no time, dropping the doll on a nearby table, running towards the door, crossing the threshold, stopping with a slight gasp, looking around, shocked.

The doorway led to some sort of weirdly gothic household in the middle of a gigantic garden surrounded by protective trees that whispered gently in the night's breeze. It was almost a little wild wood, untouched by a gardener. How that managed to stay hidden in London was anyone's guess. The other houses weren't even peeking over the tree tops and no light but the moon's broke the darkness. Mouser felt no difficulty but the boyo was squinting

"My, isn't this a welcoming mansion." Grell commented, walking towards them, looking around airily.

"Indeed. I can hear the torture instruments being sharpened for our enjoyment." Mouser replied dryly.

Ciel gritted his teeth, thinking. He glanced at Grell first. _This man laid hands on Madam Red but right now..._ he glanced at Mouser who stared at the building examining it with narrowed eyes and clear dislike. _Mouser's idea of protection tends to be grabbing me by the scruff, tossing me out of the way before shooting or slashing. While effective her strengths were on the offensive. Forcing her to divide efforts could be detrimental especially because I have no idea what we are up against. And Lizzy is in danger. _

"Grell. Protect me." He ordered, turning towards the Grim Reaper who looked at him confused and bearing a façade of ennui. "I'll listen to whatever your wish is." The boyo pressed softly.

"Don't insult me." Grell moved his hand as if throwing the proposition away, huffing, putting on an insulted demeanour that would have made an opera diva jealous. It looked very dignified. "I'm not the kind of cheap woman who performs for money..."

"I'll let you do whatever you want with Sebastian for one day." The boyo interrupted, smiling slightly, presenting a proposal that would be very hard to refuse, smiling smugly as if he knew exactly what would result of that.

"Whatever I want to do with Sebastian meaning..." The Grim Reaper though for a moment, gold and green eyes widening suddenly, sparkling with glee, anticipation and enthusiasm. "I can kiss him?"

"Whatever you like." Ciel said slowly glancing at Mouser to gauge her reaction. She was smirking, amused. He huffed in disappointment. Her fangs were showing slightly but the eyes were not red in the least. And either of those signs could have nothing to do with emotional responses. Could just be she forgot to keep control or as they were in supernatural company she no longer cared about maintaining the new nature hidden.

"W... With tongue?" Grell continued, flittering about, puckering and purring, imagining a grand moment, batting long eyelashes to the boyo in a pleading look, trying to increase the reward promise, hands clenched in front of the chest, bowing forward so their heights were slightly levelled.

"That depends on how you play it." The boyo stated, looking smugly satisfied, eyes closed, lowering his head, hiding the victorious look in the shadows of his raised collar and top hat.

"Understood." Grell shouted, shaking with delight, celebrating her luck, prancing about happily. "Motivation meter at maximum death!" She exclaimed, moving forth with dramatic poise and panache, finishing the dance.

Mouser chuckled, watching the red clad back with bouncing black bow ahead of them.

"Your butler has amazing motivational skills for slightly deranged people."

"Wouldn't that include you?" The boyo mentioned.

"Like your sanity is any better." She challenged back, as they started to walk, the dark walls growing closer and the spires looming, dead windows looking down on them.

The mansion's door was opened by Grell with a wide theatrical gesture, the Grim Reaper stepping inside with a flick of the long red mane. Wood and steel groaned as they crossed the threshold.

"Now then! Lets get a move on." The Grim Reaper announced glamorously, the fabric of the jacket whispering, following each of the movements with flowing dramatics.

"No. Please. Announce our presence for everyone to notice." Mouser drawled, looking around, glancing inside at the girl on a pedestal, checking if they had been followed rolling her eyes afterwards, standing at the entrance. Only the trees in the pale grey night. Pluto was making a few happy whines inside the chamber. The boyo's and Grell's boots stopped clacking suddenly.

"Oh. That's s quite similar to the ring you have on." Grell noted, examining the girl while the boyo drew a couple of steps closer.

The sudden grunt of pain coming from the boyo dragged Mouser's attention inside. She hissed in surprise and frustration, her hand grabbing one of the guns, aiming, tsking when finding the head and hat on the way of her shot.

"Plut..." The dog would be of no help, chewing on one of the dolls taken from the store.

Mouser started to move, curving around the room to get a better shot. A crystal from the chandelier hit the girl's head, making her drop the boyo who scurried back. The girl seemed disoriented but there was no change in her expression or eyes. Mouser changed the plan, going for the Earl.

"Now, now! Don't mistake which name you should be calling out." Grell said, berating the boyo in a singsong tone, the one an adult would use with a todler, voice echoing through the room enhanced by the acoustics, posing on the metal structure, high above them, smiling.

"Stupid mutt." The boyo grated out as Mouser picked him up, dragging him away from the approaching doll-like girl, shoving him back, placing herself between him and the thing, the shot finally clear, cocking the gun, her aim just taking a moment to adjust. "Don't." The boyo ordered suddenly. Mouser twitched, lips thinning and dodged a slow punch, lowering her gun, glancing at the Young Master.

"Reaper's have tools to hunt souls with." Grell was announcing suddenly, looking down at the scene, slipping out a pair of red scissors. "Yes. Their Death Scythes."

"Those are just normal scissors, right?" The boyo said slowly, looking up, unimpressed.

"I have pocket knives bigger than that." Mouser shrugged, sidestepping another punch, tilting her head up to examine whatever the Grim Reaper was doing.

"I had no choice on the matter!" Grell shouted, irked. "Will took my custom Death Scythe away. I long for those vibrations again." Mouser made a slight face, stepping a few steps back until the girl was almost under the chandelier. "I'll cut her to shreds." The Grim Reaper jumped down in a flash of red.

"Wait! Don't kill her. This isn't a doll!" The boyo shouted. Mouser half turned, realizing why she had been stopped, examining the outfit more closely. Rich girl. Shard of Hope. The missing girls the Scotland Yard was franticly looking for... so even when looking for a missing fiancée the Queen's Watchdog sniffed out what would upset the Monarch and the official upstanding services hadn't been able to solve.

As small as they were the scissors did the job, the doll falling down sawdust bleeding from the slit throat. Grell stood, snapping the scissors happily, looking down at it. Mouser approached, tilting her head, curious about the thing that had seemed strong a few moments ago.

"It was a doll after all then?" The boyo whispered, crouching near it, touching the doll's hand, taking the ring away from the limp fingers, examining it under the light, surprised to find it genuine.

"But she still smells human." The thief said, her hand tightening on the gun. Under the other scents that made that thing there was no denying... She focused a bit harder on the prone form. But there was nothing there. Just a shell. No soul playing with her senses.

"Mould it out of wood and clay, wood and clay, wood and clay..." The rhythm of the nursery rhyme began softly around them, sung by a male's voice, the inner doors opening alone and slowly with a creak. A ginger haired man with a blue fleur-de-lis painted under his right eye, wearing a blue tailcoat, carrying a three branched candelabra, the glint of the candles casting a pale light, keeping most in shadow. "This doll was a failure." He said slowly, coming out, standing in the doorway. "So I thought they need to be made much, much stronger." There was a pause as he raised his free hand, waving it softly, slowly, voice ringing out rather melodiously. "Make it out of iron and steel, iron and steel, iron and steel. My fair lady."

Four dolls approached as he sang, disappearing again into the darkened corridors beyond the doorway, walking heavily, in tandem, the sound of their bodies different from the earlier one.

Ciel clenched his teeth, standing, hands fisting around the ring.

"Those who interfere in the love between Sebastian and me... will end up like this!" Grell huffed and attacked suddenly, the scissors snapping against one of the foursome, the echo of metal against metal clanking. The doll had crossed her arms, defending, the human skin shredded but the metal structure underneath pretty much unharmed. It riposted. Grell dodged sharply, unbalanced, falling backwards, eyes wide.

"Blimey. Shaking in my boots here." Mouser said in a monotone, sighing, shooting. The projectile got deflected with a metallic clank, the creature barely flinching.

"So hard." Grell said, eyes wide in surprise.

Mouser groaned in agreement, holstering her gun once again, unbuttoning her cape, watching the dolls carefully. Their advance was slow for the moment, as if waiting for a provocation, for a movement to counter accordingly. Were their eyes made of glass? That could be a weak spot if she got close enough to shoot point blank... whatever controlled seemed to be within the head, seeing a near decapitation had stopped the first one.

"Grell. This is an order." Mouser snorted as the boyo's voice rose suddenly. He forgot that only worked with Sebastian... She slipped the cape away, tossing it into a nearby chair. "You and Pluto are to play with the dolls here forever." He took a deep breath, running towards the door, making one of the dolls, the one with long platinum hair, react, charging towards Grell while the boyo sidestepped the Grim Reaper.

Mouser's boot came down on the doll's fist, crushing it down against the floor, looking down at the creature as Grell shouted as a result of the attack. Mouser moved, taking her boot away from the slightly twisted metal fingers, kicking the doll on the face hard, throwing her backwards, drawing both her daggers sharply, watching the movements once again. Slow and steady trying to surround them, apparently forgetting about the boyo as soon as he was out of their line of sight... the eye was slightly shattered...

"Do you plan to leave me here? How inhuman."Grell shouted after the boyo, scrambling to stand as the dolls inched closer.

"Can a Reaper say that?" Was the boyo's answer as he went deeper into the mansion.

"Shape up you big girl's blouse." Mouser said, dodging the doll that came her way, plunging the dagger towards one of the eyes, crushing it, the blade digging deeply into the skull, finding little resistance. Either the head was empty of what was inside was very, very soft. No blood, no screams, no nothing. It was creepy enough to be attacked by dull-eyed girl-shaped dolls but that drove the point home. It stepped back slowly, slipping the blade free on it own, falling down with a loud thud, platinum hair in disarray around the undone cap.

So it was just within the head...

Grell dodged another doll, scissors snapping shut, attacking suddenly, the thing's skin ripping easily but the metal just showing some signs of scratches. The Grim Reapers were, according to Sebastian, extremely tough and durable, capable of great speed and strength. Neutral to most of the world while soul collecting. Natural enemies of Demons seeing their job was to retrieve one of the main meals of the species. According to him since she was a newborn who still had no ability to consume souls she should be safe from most of the ill effects of the grudge for the next hundred years or so. And by ill effect he meant stab wounds by Death Scythes.

"Go for the eyes nancy boy." Mouser shouted, the doll in blue speeding suddenly, its punch aimed for her throat. Mouse crouched avoiding it, sweeping her leg, knocking the thing down, the flow of the dress covering her sight for a moment as she moved up, using the moment where the head hit the floor to stab her through one of the blue eyes, twisting the blade, severing whatever made it move.

Grell had managed to finish off the doll in pink, striking at the face quickly and repeatedly until the skin was torn and the glass fell in an almost too fine powder when the yellow one came from behind, hitting her squarely on the spine, knocking the Grim Reaper down. Mouser threw one of her blades more for distraction than anything else, making the thing forget about Grell, turning, lumbering towards her.

Mouser ran, almost too fast, grabbing its neck suddenly, eyes widening in surprise when she lifted the thing off the ground, the metal twisting under her hand, the doll slowly raising her arms, trying to grab at her wrist.

The sound of metal echoing and snapping made Grell turn her head, forgetting the pain that would soon fade, as the doll's head popped free, falling down, the glass eyes rolling till they showed only white, the woman releasing its twisted neck, smiling suddenly, looking down. Beautiful blood-red coloured iris with a demonic pupil, a cold smile that showed fangs that belonged to a predator... The brat had managed to acquire another demon... A female demon... near Sebby... Grell stood, eyes narrowing behind the glasses.

The click of a lighter echoed on the empty room as she lit a cigarette, eyes closed for a moment, the white cylinder placed on her lips. There was a slight, sweeter smile as she tilted her head towards the inner rooms, turning away, walking on the way to the door that lead outside, picking up her dagger, sheathing it once again, grabbing her cape, tossing it over her shoulder carelessly, slouching a bit.

"Come on. I need to catch the mutt." Pluto, uncaring about orders, had left the room running towards the night.

"Evee dear..." Grell approached, sauntering, towering over the female, smiling down at her. "You wouldn't happen to be a threat now, would you?" The Grim Reaper touched one of the brown strands that fell around the pretty face. Pity the crimson of her eyes had faded away to a dull dark brown. "It would be..." A sharp snap, an explosion and a deep pain accompanying it brought Grell's attention down, forcing her to step back. A gun had been pressed against her stomach and while that would never be enough to kill it was quite painful. Also quite ravaging for the clothes.

"I am no threat whatsoever." Mouser said smiling, looking up, keeping the cigarette between her lips deftly, even when talking, holstering the gun, turning, walking out without a backwards glance. "Why, I could even be ever so helpful..." A slight chuckled drifted from the demoness along with the silvery smoke.

Grell lowered her glasses for a moment, surprised. She might not be Sebby's covenant after all... just another contract the brat had made. Then a slight smile parted her lips, happiness and interest cutting through the pain. Viciousness...


	12. Chapter 12

"Why am I holding him?!" Grell shouted, straining, the heels digging slightly into the dirt, pulling the leash tightly, the leather taut, stretched almost to its breaking point, as Pluto struggled, trying to cross the bridge and reach the tower, panting, black nails digging into the soil. As a proof of the Grim Reaper's strength the devil dog wasn't able to get away.

"Because you want a kiss." Mouser slid the whetstone against the blade, checking its sharpness again before sliding it again, the metal hissing, as she sat on the bridge's railing, legs crossed, leaning over her maintenance, glancing at the Grim Reaper before hiding a smirk, continuing her gossiping. "A great, dark, sinful kiss that would make you beg for more even as his hands bring you nothing but pain and death..."

Grell shuddered suddenly, anticipation, imagining it quite clearly, trepidation and lust, sighing happily before her gaze sharpened into a frown, staring at the demon who played with her blades, blowing softly on the metal, fogging it before slipping a piece of cloth over it, deeming it worthy of returning to its sheet, slipping the other dagger free, picking up the whetstone once again.

"How would you know?" The Grim Reaper asked slowly, the grip on the leash loosening for an instant, a bit of aggression bubbling up.

"I read a lot of novels." The metal shrieked again as Mouser smiled, tilting her head, following the curve of the blade. "These kind of themes, dark passions, excess of lust and burning desires are in vogue." Another sweep of the stone, a quick check for imperfections on the metal as Pluto barked and howled.

"Hey, hey! What's wrong with you?" Grell shouted again, dragging her heels. Pluto whimpered and calmed for a moment. "Really? Books?" Grell continued.

"Naughty books." Mouser kept smirking, sheathing the dagger, her fingers unbuttoning a bit more of her shirt, slipping into her cleavage, pulling out a folding knife from its resting spot against her breastbone. It had a black ivory handle embed with silver filigree and closed was almost a palm long. "Very educational. Also very unrealistic. I do not believe in half of it but it's entertaining. Rather..." She flicked the knife open, winking. Grell chuckled a bit, catching the drift, huffing with effort when the dog picked up his attempts to run.

Mouser sighed, noticing the averted disaster, and began to work on the fancy blade.

"You are still alive?" The boyo came out suddenly from the trees, accompanied by Sebastian. It appeared as if he'd been running, frantic. The whetstone slid again against the metal as Mouser looked up, blank faced.

"The trust you place in me is overwhelming Young Master, it truly is." The sarcasm slid slowly out of her mouth as she pulled the cloth, polishing the blade, slipping it into place, safely in-between skin and fabric, squirming a bit to readjust to its pressure, watching as Grell fidgeted like a blushing little girl before trying a flying hug towards Sebastian complete with squee, being tackled to the ground by an overexcited Pluto who latched onto the demon's side panting and whining like the puppy he was.

"What's with you!" Grell protested, standing, rubbing the abused backside. "Ah, wait..." Grell stood, adjusting the glasses, trembling finger pointing towards the tuxedoed puppy, face a study of utter puzzlement and confusion, voice lowering into a whispered tone of doubt and dread. "is he a demon dog?"

"Now you notice?" The boyo said dryly, looking dismayed. Under the cape he was still fidgeting impatiently, unimpressed and not amused, on the edge. Mouser slid her tongue over one of her grown fangs, frowning for a moment then focusing to make them recede. Appearances and all the cautioning about what was proper to present to the public.

"Oh no." Grell's expression changed immediately, hands dramatically posed, the deep breath sharply audible to mark the change in mood, trembling before bursting. "A feverish night with a beast. How immoral!" She screeched, blushing on cue.

"You really have no standards." Sebastian managed to keep his face absolutely emotionless even as the flamboyant Grim Reaper fantasised around and a puppy nibbled on his jacket. The boyo didn't need to manage anything, displaying his grouchiness quite clearly.

"I have seen worse." Mouser sighed nonchalantly, picking up her cape, flicking it over the shoulder, walking towards the butler, looking up, wearing an irked expression. "I also will demand payment for overtime."

"It will be provided." Sebastian tilted his head towards her, chuckling quietly.

"Hmm. Fine. Anyhow." She turned, glancing at the building. "The tower is guarded by something. I couldn't break in using any of the usual ways. But I'm fairly sure the girl's here. The mutt wouldn't stop pointing and barking."

"Pluto. I was waiting for you." Sebastian said as he began to walk towards the door, gesturing Mouser to follow, the dog gripping his shoulder. "Doors sealed with unearthly power can only be opened by a guard dog of Hell." He instructed quietly as they stopped a few steps away from the doorway. Mouser nodded in understanding.

Pluto uttered a sudden sound of pain, falling down, grasping the collar, groaning and writhing on the bridge's floor, his body glowing as the change was forced by something outside of him.

"Maybe we should remove that thing." Mouser said calmly, watching his pain.

"Feeling sorry for the mutt?" Sebastian retorted, amused.

"Not exactly trusting its origins either." She finished as the devil dog's form grew to its full size, a howl escaping his jaws, tail wagging as he jumped forward, the glowing door opening inwards.

"He's so big!" Grell shouted suddenly, eagerly happy.

"Again he's..." The boyo ran towards them, staring at the disappearing dog in the winding staircase.

"It's quite alright." Sebastian pondered. "We will have him guide us through here."

* * *

There was no trace of Pluto when they started to go up the stairs, the curling steps unbroken by doors, the formely barred windows allowing slashes of moonlight through, candles glowing dimply, placed in small alcoves throughout the stairway, until they reached the summit of the tower, moving towards a pair of double doors leading to what seemed to be a workroom. A cross between a doll maker's workshop, pieces, tools and limbs strewn about and an alchemist hiding hole as described in the novels with cryptic warnings, strange symbols engraved on the walls, beakers and glowing substances on the tables. Mouser looked around carefully, scrunching her nose at the unpleasant scents peppering the air as the boyo ran to the girl sitting against a wall. Like a doll.

"Lizzy!" He shouted, examining her, desperation creeping slowly into his tone as he gripped the girl's arms, shaking, trying to awaken her. "Lizzy! Lizzy!" There was no response, her body moving about limply with each shake.

"It seems we're a bit late." Mouser grunted, annoyed at Grell's comment, extending her arm, picking the left gun that rested on her back, shooting. That gave her a shriek and a Grim Reaper stomping her feet at her, flapping her arms furiously and fast. "Stop doing that!"

"I am not aiming for your face, yet, so quit nattering." She growled, looking up, eyes narrowed, locking eyes. That extended into a slight hissy fit of sharpened fangs between them as the demon said nothing and his master worried over his fiancée, terminated in a twin theatrical huff, both looking away pointedly.

"No..." The boyo was growing more frantic at each second that passed without reaction. "Lizzy! Lizzy! Lizzy!" Each shout was punctuated by an increasingly harsh shake. Her eyes opened softly, after a few moments, when her head settled after the last shake, a tiny whimper coming out of her lips, taking a moment to focus, but still looking blurry and dazed. Mouser sighed. So she wasn't a doll then. Maybe she should have tried checking for the soul instead of playing with redheads but...

"Huh? Ciel?" Lizzy whispered, confused, voice soft and bleary.

"Lizzy... thank God..." The boyo joined his hands in an almost prayer, looking relieved, letting go of her.

"The ring... you liked it, right, Ciel?" She asked groggily, smiling softly, catching sight of the Shard or Hope gracing his thumb, next to the Phantomhive's diamond.

"That must have been the present she had for you." Sebastian answered in sight of the Young Master's confused expression.

"How foolish... why, for me..." The boyo whispered darkly, standing, as if preparing to give orders once more. Probably wishing to leave as soon as possible now that his fiancée was safe.

There was a sudden sound, a string snapping taut and the girl was lifted from the chair, eyes widening in surprise but seemingly too calm, confused. Maybe she had been drugged... Mouser reasoned, stepping back quickly to get a better view of the new trouble.

"Why I wonder." The voice of the ginger haired man that had commanded the dolls echoed through the room, bouncing on the stone walls into a confusing effect, as if coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. "Why is my body moving all by itself?" Another hiss of a string, a halberd cutting through the air, landing on Lizzy's extended hands, the girl's eyes widening in surprise and fright as her hands closed around the weapon, holding if firmly. "And why is it trying to hurt the one I love?" It completed before gliding the girl down, making her attack.

"Elizabeth!" Ciel shouted, reaching for her, almost struck down. Sebastian pulled him away, dodging the blade.

"NO." Elizabeth as screaming, powerless to stop her own gestures. "Stop. Stop. Stop." She sobbed as Sebastian flawlessly moved both him and the boyo out of harm's way, glancing at the pair sitting on the worktable, ignored by the attacking blonde.

"Grell." He called as he walked backwards. "You can see it as well right?"

Mouser narrowed her eyes, focusing to see what he was mentioning. Thin almost transparent strings wrapped around the girl's limbs, dancing as she moved. That explained the snapping sounds that creaked with each movement.

"Yeah, I guess." Grell mentioned, trimming her nails nonchalantly with one of the death scissors. "But that blade might cut me." The Grim Reaper complained morosely.

"You are worried about that?" Mouser deadpanned.

"You're sitting right next to me." Grell pointed out.

"It's a fair cop." Mouser admitted, shrugging.

"Please." Sebastian said softly, sweetly, gripping the halberd's handle, keeping it and the girl who wielded the weapon still.

"Oh my, Sebastian!" Grell perked up, clapping her hands together. "Are you asking me for a favour?" There a sly glint in her eyes as she faked demureness, fluttering eyelashes. "Then when we kiss it will be with... tongue."

"Nice choice." Mouser mentioned, chuckling.

"I have no idea what you are talking about, but I tie cherry stalks with my tongue." So he hadn't been informed of Grell's fee for that night's protection service. Also he could do a lot with that tongue. Mouser shuddered suddenly, in reaction to the tone and memory as Grell's reflected the mood with less contained excitement.

"Yes!" The Grim Reaper jumped into the fray scissors in hand, staring down at Lizzy. "To have a bigger weapon than I do when you're nothing but a little girl... I can't forgive that." There was a smiled plastered on the sharp fanged mouth that was not reassuring in the least.

"Stop it Grell!" Apparently the boyo felt the same uneasiness as Grell slashed, the girl's body falling to the floor. "Elizabeth..." He whispered, disentangling from Sebastian who tossed the halberd away, placing a knee down, touching Lizzy's dress as Ciel looked confused and desperate.

"A puppet string." He said clearly, pulling the string so the light shimmered on it.

"Only a death scythe's edge could be this sharp." Grell complimented the blades, posing.

"Although I should point out that almost everyone in this room has bigger weapons at the moment." Mouser cut in, standing, stretching slowly.

"Stop it." Grell stomped her boots in mild tantrum before mellowing and turning towards Sebastian. "How was it Sebastian? I am great aren't I? Praise me, praise me." The Grim Reaper snapped the scissors, smiling.

"What are you, a puppy?" Mouser groaned slowly, rolling her eyes.

"Stop it!" Grell shrieked.

"Amazing. You are most skilled with a pair of scissors, aren't you?" Sebastian said as if reading flatly from a script. The tone didn't faze Grell in the least

"Ah! It's a pleasure, death." The Grim Reaper posed once more, flaring the crimson hair, showcasing the red jacked.

"Still thinking of the kiss?" Mouser poked fun, amused.

"Of course." Grell shook, hopping a bit, adjusting her glasses with a smile.

"Your tongue or his?" Mouser arched an eyebrow.

"And the path of the thread leads to..." Sebastian ignored their antics, looking up, trying to find the puppet master.

"I reasoned" The ginger was standing on one of the thick beams, way above their heads, moving his hands, puppet strings falling down, binding them in place. Grell struggled, the boyo shifted a bit, surprised, Mouser wriggled in her restraints, reaching for her waistcoat, feeling the thread nip into her skin and Sebastian kept looking up. "that what I should use to make the doll this time is..." the thing continued unperturbed.

"Well, what are you made out of?" Sebastian interrupted suddenly, making the thing look confused, hesitating on his speech. Mouser sniffed the air slowly. Human leather, straw and wood, traces of metal and Lizzy's perfume.

"Heh? What am I made out of?" He said slowly, as if seriously considering it.

"Yes." Sebastian continued calmly, the halberd at his feet shifting slightly as his toe touched it. "From what I can see it does not appear to be a very strong material."

"I reasoned that I was supposed to be human, however, lately, termites seem to be falling out of my ears." The doll continued slowly, rubbing his ear before Sebastian moved, kicking the halberd up, catching him on the jaw, the pressure of their binds loosening. The demon caught the weapon without hesitation, looking around.

"Grell." He called sharply in an almost order.

"Ah, finally we shall work together, united by our love. Sebastian." Grell almost jumped at the opportunity. Unfortunately for her the Grim Reaper was used as a stepping stone for the butler who jumped high to confront the creature, halberd in hand, unflinching.

"I believe I should warn you about sadists but..." Mouser watched as Grell fell to the ground, the blunt side of the discarded blade, the halberd's head, thwacking her on the back. The thief winced in solidarity.

"I feel no sense of duty or passion for being a butler from you." Sebastian declared, disgusted before striking, the wood and straw body falling down right on top of Grell who shrieked and struggled to get the thing away. "As if I would lose to someone without passion." Sebastian landed, standing dignifiedly.

"Ah that's a passionate man for you!" Grell scotched closer on her knees, practically rubbing against his hip.

The boyo shook his head, cradling his fiancée, placing her in a sitting position against a wall, gritting his teeth together, divided by the need to get her out and the duty to understand what had happened to the other girls.

"Lust: lost count; pride: none." Mouser whispered.

"So he was a doll too." Ciel stood, staring at the fallen doll, approaching slowly.

"Drozell Keinz." Grell clarified, managing to turn serious for a moment, after glaring at the ginger, adjusting the glasses carefully. "His soul was seized five years ago. However for some reason there was a reaction to his life force."

"A temporary soul must have been used by someone." Sebastian speculated, looking around. Temporary soul? Mouser glanced at him, lost. The demons just shrugged. So he would explain later. But seeing the room it was most likely some kind of summoning magic or the likes.

"Ciel..." Lizzy whispered, managing to come out of whatever was running through her body once again.

"Elizabeth, let's go back to the mansion." Ciel was quick to go to her side once more, embracing her.

"I wanted to give you a gift. Make you happy." She whispered dreamily.

"Just relax. Everything is..." The boyo continued, his tone gentle. Lizzy was no longer listening, her eyes closed once again, her breathing quiet and soft.

"It's not over yet." Sebastian noted as the doll trembled, trying to stand.

"I reasoned that I must report to the master." It was saying in a weakening voice, each step slow and shaky, the words spaced, mangled. There was a subtle change in the air as he walked towards the second grand door.

"What's with him?" Grell watched, making a grimace, sticking her tongue out. "He's trying to serve his master even when he's all messed up like this?"

"I understand him." Sebastian said, watching his progression with a serious face, calmly as it made its way towards a set of double doors across the room. "After all, I'm one hell of a butler."

Loyalty and appearances. Devotion and purpose.

"Master..." The doll whispered brokenly as he fell forwards, hands on the door, the wooden planes parting simply, silently, revealing a simple elegant room, seeped in silvery shadows, decorated with cherubs and golden leaf motives, everything greyed, everything dusty, everything stale, frozen. A chair had its back towards them whoever was sitting on it starting out the windows. Pluto was curled at the feet of the man, looking harmless and puppy-like, licking the gloved fingers with a happy yip.

"Pluto. Why is he being so friendly?" Ciel tried to understand what he was seeing, joining the demons and Grim Reaper at the doorway.

"I do apologise." The man in the chair said, unmoving, his voice smooth and calm. "My butler was so incompetent he couldn't even offer a proper welcome." And as always all fault rested on the aide.

"So you're the culprit." Ciel said, angered. "Why are you turning young girls into dolls?" Whether he would order them to kill or not depended on how clouded his sense of duty was over the fact that his fiancée had almost become one of the creepy automatons. Mouser would vote for a prolonged torture and then murder.

"Flowers, eras, people... beauty is a fleeting thing. Doll making is a blessed art that leaves behind the most beautiful and perfect things in the world." The voice continued dreamily, the body utterly unmoving.

Empty shells. Mouser didn't know what to choose as worse. That they existed or that she knew people who would pay for them. A pretty girl that would not scream or fight, that would not disobey or...

"What a bad taste." Mouser nodded slightly, exchanging a glance with Grell, agreeing, shrugging away the distaste. "What's perfect about those nymphets..."

"Why were you targeting me?" Ciel interrupted much to the Grim Reaper's annoyance. "I have no intention of becoming one of your precious dolls." The boyo threw the Shard of Hope against the chair, grimacing, his voice rising slightly in the end.

"Please limit your insolence." The man retorted calmly, dismissing the boyo's chalenge.

"What?" The boyo was taken aback.

"My butler's head was filled with straw." The man continued, his voice lilting as if the very idea amused him. "I cannot fathom why he wanted you." A small pause graced the air as the boyo gnashed his teeth together, growling slightly. "Ciel Phantomhive you have carried the fate of death since your birth. That body of yours is already unclean." There were no _ifs_ that time. He definitely found the idea funny.

Shock crossed the boyo's face, memories clearly being dragged out of someplace in his mind he would not willingly visit. Mouser didn't move, recognizing the expression all too well, eyes flaring red in rage. But she also knew the Young Master was nowhere near the breaking point.

"How do you know about that?" His voice was dragged out in a slow guttural whisper.

"I cannot forgive that something like you exists in this world." The man continued, the conversation, one-sided, disgust building over his words, each cutting sharply on the Earls' pride. "Unclean, unwanted, barren. I wold have wanted to erase you. Not grace you with such a privilege."

"What?" Ciel shouted, enraged. He had no desire to turn into a doll but he also did not want to be judged for what grim fate had befallen him years before.

"Get rid of the unclean. Get rid of the unwanted, the barren. Get rid of it. Get rid of it. Get rid of it." The man repeated, over and over, his chair trembling under the weight of his mantra.

"Get rid of you." Mouser shouted suddenly, her temper snapping, her own memories gnawing at her, the voice, the tone too much, flinging one dagger suddenly, burying it to the hilt on the chair, the wood cracking around the blade, making it quiet. She sighed in relief, touching her forehead for a moment.

Ciel ran towards the chair, circling it, his eye widening when he found nothing but a human sized doll with a tiny marionette placed on his lap. An illusion for a hidden master, the place and light working to trick whoever entered the room. Pluto was startled, jumping away from the chair, sitting, tilting his big fluffy head in a question.

"This is..." Sebastian whispered when they gathered behind the boyo, looking at the same thing. Mouser hissed when she felt something brush her cheek, stepping back, looking around, suddenly nervous.

The tiny marionette began to move with a wooden click. Grell shrieked, hiding behind Sebastian, frightened by being caught off guard. Ciel gasped. Sebastian frowned. Mouser grabbed a gun and a dagger, pointing towards the sound. It had a clown face painted, sad and still. Then with a shrill sound it changed, looking deranged, mouth opened to reveal fangs, jumping of the chair laughing maniacally.

The boyo jumped back, startled. Mouser shot, as she did when a rat startled her, the bullet catching only carpet, the thing going towards the door at a surprising speed.

"Sebastian. Catch it." Ciel ordered, coming to his senses as Grell shivered behind a very calm Sebastian. Pluto whimpered, lowering his furry head. Mouser allowed a shaky sigh out.

"The one controlling that doll is not in the vicinity." Sebastian stated, his eyes narrowing, looking around the room with sharpened attention. "There are unseen strings attached all around here." The thing that she had felt against her cheek... Mouser took a deep breath and looked around, examining the shimmering threads that suddenly became visible. "They are far from pleasant."

Ciel frowned, annoyed by the outcome that solved very little of the mystery, glancing at the Shard of Hope fallen harmlessly on the carpet.

* * *

It was dawn when they reached the bottom of the tower and ventured outside.

"Sebby!" Grell shouted suddenly, running towards the demon who held Lizzy in his arms. "Now give me a hot kiss." She proclaimed as the butler crouched, avoiding the Grim Reaper altogether without upsetting his burden. Grell ended up in a heap of red on the dirt a few feet away.

"What should I do Young Master?" Sebastian asked in a low tone, turning slightly. "Would you like me to take revenge for Madam Red right here?"

"Fine." The Grim Reaper fidgeted, chuckling nervously. "I'll leave the kiss until next time..." A shot echoed before Grell had time to move. "Evee?" She whispered surprised, touching the arm the bullet had grazed.

"What? I'm a bit possessive." Mouser shrugged, checking the bullets she had left.

"You're... ah?!" Grell shouted, confused, adjusting the glasses, the pressing need to leave abandoning her for a moment. Sebastian stepped forward. Grell shrieked, startled and jumped, moving away. "Oh what is a shot between girlfriends..." The Grim Reaper hand waved magnanimously, disappearing over the trees. "Bye bye kiss!"

"How does shooting become friendly?" Mouser pondered slowly, rolling her eyes, amused.

"Stop..." Sebastian was still in serious work mode.

"Leave it. It's fine." Ciel ordered firmly, his eyes on his fiancée. "I don't want Elizabeth to be bathed in any more blood." The boyo whispered, caressing the girl's cheek.

Mouser smiled, cooing, ruffling his hair playfully.

"It is lovely to see you preserve the innocence of at least one girl, boyo."


	13. Chapter 13

_Princesa de la Luna_ asked about Mouser pics… I feel anatomy is the enemy as every time I sketch something my mind gnaws at me saying _arm not long enough, the hands looked like stomped on spiders_, _the leg is weird_, _spines don't bend that way_… but I do like to draw and after a bit of thought… I did have the sketches… and the outfits… sooooo… Peek-a-boo there: blackebonycharcoal . deviantart . com

Just the regular day to day uniform for now… on to the writing then.

* * *

Ciel woke up with a start, kicking the covers away, reacting to a man's voice, the gun pointing directly towards Sebastian's head, his fears fuelled by a sudden onslaught of dreams.

"Don't touch me!" He shouted in-between pants, eyes wide, squeezed against the headboard, the handgun held tightly between his hands, finger trembling on the trigger.

The demon just smiled after a few moments of immobile confusion, following the usual routine, turning towards the tea cart, preparing and pouring as the Young Master calmed.

"Today's morning tea is Assam black tea with added milk. It is a milk tea that I prepared." He extended the cup and saucer waiting as the gun was put down. Ciel sighed, calmed, taking the tea, acting like nothing had happened. Of course the butler would not let the matter die as easily, especially when he saw teasing potential. "Milk can help to soothe ones nerves. Especially after a nightmare."

"Is this what you give Mouser?" Ciel retorted curtly, sipping, trying a new angle. Sebastian kept smiling, shrugging politely.

"She has a marked preference for rum and cake when upset." The demon chuckled. She also tended to seek him but that should not be said quite so bluntly. He picked up the book that peeked conspicuously in the rumple bedding. "It must be because you were reading Edgar Poe's works before bedtime.

"I have the liberty of doing as I please." Ciel huffed, taking on the noble's appearance, hiding behind the carefully measured sip of tea. Sebastian just arched a condescending eyebrow, placing the book on the nightstand. "What's the schedule for today?"

"Today you will need to assess the files sent by the company. Mouser is in the study and already has sorted the main documents, those that will need a quicker decision seeing that Christmas is approaching." Sebastian paused for a bit, allowing the information to sink in. "You will have Marchioness Midford and Lady Elizabeth as guest in the afternoon. And also Young Master..."

"Oh no" Ciel shouted suddenly, jumping from the bed, flustered, fidgeting, trying to open his shirt, giving a start towards the dressing room, looking franticly around. "Hurry up and make preparations. Hurry!" He shook his arms around, trying to convey urgency.

Sebastian tilted his head. That was slightly unusual.

"There is no need the Marchioness will only arrive in the afternoon..." He tried to reassure the Young Master.

"You fool! This is Aunt Frances we're talking about!" There was a seriousness in his tone... He usually reserved that for work related issues...

* * *

"It's been a while since we last saw you Marchioness Midford. As always you have arrived earlier than expected." Ciel was waiting on the grand foyer, having arrived just a few minutes before the carriage pulled into the front gardens. Despite the looming threat of arrival he had made it. Tanaka was present as link to the former Phantomhive Household master, Sebastian seemed ready despite the confusion and Mouser had been dragged out of the study, standing next to the butler, looking around puzzled, snapping into attention as soon as the Marchioness entered the house.

"Forget the formal greetings." Lady Frances Midford examined the people present with a critical eye, the stern but beautiful face clearly showing her disapproval. Next to her Lizzy stood as the picture of sweet carefree innocence in the proper pastel colours and bonnet, seemingly still unaffected by the incidents that had befallen her in the mad doll house. "Anyway Earl Phantomhive with that out of bed look can I presume you have just awakened?"

"Aww Ciel just woke up that is so cute!" The flurry was unleashed, the girl's arms going immediately around Ciel's neck in a crushing embrace, judging by his choked whimper.

"Elizabeth!" The name came out sharp and chastising, snapping Lizzy from her cuteness trance. "It is not proper to engage in such unseemly actions. Also you should be greeting him first." Lizzy was slowly letting go of Ciel as if any sudden movements would provoke something harsher. "Even though this is where I lived in the past I have emphasized that you must still behave like a refined lady..."

"Sorry, I am so sorry Mother." She said, straightening, blinking quickly, hiding a shiver.

"It has been quite a while!" Sebastian said, cutting in as the Young Master seemed a bit... incapacitated at the moment. The Marchioness attention went immediately to him, sternly, her eyes narrowing despite his flawless image of politeness, bowing, a hand over his chest. "Welcome Marchioness and Lady Elizabeth. Thank you for the trouble to travel all the way here..." She approached, slowly, menace in her eyes, the skirts rustling lightly, her boots hitting the ground hard enough to make a sound but lightly enough to keep her pace from being militarily sharp. "May I ask is there is something on my face...?" He asked suddenly, hesitating when she was close and glaring hard.

"That face of yours. It is still the same as ever." The Marchioness stated haughtily, disapproving harshly. "What indecent looks you possess..." She continued staring him down as Ciel snickered quietly on the background. Sebastian seemed slightly taken aback, chuckling quietly.

"I was born looking this way..." He tried the somewhat embarrassed, smiling approach. Which could not be a lie as he was bound by contract to never let one pass his lips. But that could mean several things. From that face was very, very close to the one he had while in his true form to _being born_ referring to the moment where he had chosen to adopt that guise.

"And also." The Marchioness moved fast, fast enough to startle Sebastian, grabbing his fringe pulling it up hard, her voice rising. "Both the master and his butler are alike. The two of you are obviously men yet both of you keep your fringe long. Seeing it irks me." She allowed the butler to go "Kindly learn from Tanaka!" She ordered, her gloved hands fishing for something in her reticule. Tanaka just sipped his tea, watching the scene unfold.

"Aunt, aunt, please wait a minute!" Ciel began to say, stepping back when a silver comb was displayed in her hand and the Lady began to advance, first towards the Earl.

Mouser watched, her lips slightly parted in awe, eyes wide, as the woman subdued them and combed their hairs back, standing as still as a statue afterwards, appraising them with a critical eye.

"I am really sorry that I have to trouble you for this, Aunt Frances." The boyo said tersely.

"Really now." The Marchioness said finally approving her own work.

"It's too cute..." Lizzy whispered.

Mouser almost jumped when the Marchioness glare turned to her.

"Welcome to the Phantomhive Estate, Marchioness." Mouser said, bowing formally, keeping the words clear.

"You must be the secretary my daughter talked about." She had only talked with Elizabeth briefly while Sebastian drove the carriage towards the Midford estate and Ciel brooded, looking into the dawning day gloomily. "You attire could be considered quite scandalous by society." The Marchioness remarked, most likely talking about the trousers. There was a stigma against the female legs but...

"I am aware Marchioness. However one should always put practicality and common sense before flashiness." Mouser said evenly with no expression, straightening.

"I see. Your hands are stained." The Marchioness pointed out almost casually.

"There was quite a great deal of paperwork to sort and consider. I apologise for my dishevelled appearance but we were indeed only expecting you in the afternoon, my Lady."

"What is your name girl?" The Marchioness asked imperially.

"Evelyn Crows." _Do not stammer. Do not show emotions that are not asked of you. You are a doll, a pretty doll to be seen and used. Talk only when talked to. Be polite, be demure, be sweet. Or so help me I will make you pay this time. Those were the headmistress's words as she brushed Mouser's hair, pulling hard on the last sentence. It had been the first and only time she had actually tried to sell her. It was a highest bidder situation as it was not the second Wednesday. The headmistress had left her alone, gone to hail a hackney. She slipped the jacket over the plain orphanage dress, touching the swish-knife Jack had offered her years ago, staring at the blade. It was well used and well kept._

Mouser kept a straight face, keeping, memory locked while the Marchioness did her exam. It was unpleasant and that woman scary but for goodness sake she had endured worse than a disapproving noblewoman.

"Work diligently Miss Crows."The Marchioness said finally, turning towards the boyo once again. "I just came to conduct a surprise spot-check and you are still lazing around as usual. Also you butler is still as indecent as ever." Mouser bit her lip containing a smile when glancing at the boyo's terrified face and Sebastian's pure confusion. "I am going to retrain you today. Firstly I'm going to check the inside of your house. Unruliness in the living environments is the thing that leads to a heart being unruly."

"In that case allow me to lead the way." Sebastian stepped forth, bowing politely. Ciel fretted, approaching the butler. "Please be at ease." He reassured the boyo, smiling slightly. "I had already ensured everything would be in place yesterday." He cleared his throat with a slight cough behind the gloved hand. Mouser took a deep breath and approached, following quietly. "Firstly I will lead you to explore the garden. The winter roses brought from Germany are exceptionally beautiful." Sebastian explained, guiding them through the corridors, placing his hands on the brass handles. But he closed the door quickly even before it was a fifth open. "I have made a mistake." He stated quickly, laughing politely. "I actually wanted to let you explore the great hall." Sebastian stated, turning away, making a gesture on the other direction.

"Something must have happened." Ciel whispered worriedly, his expression cloudy. Mouser nodded softly as Lizzy stared at them, sharing a slightly worried demeanour. In the gardens... Had the mutt done something? Of had Finny tripped and knocked down another tree?

"What?" Unimpressed the Marchioness watched the butler, glancing at the double doors. "Since we are already here we should start exploring from the garden." One would think it logical...

"No, please come to the main hall. This way please." Sebastian kept a cheery smile in place, turning away briskly, walking towards the opposite direction, guiding them. "It was an oversight on my part." He continued, piecing an explanation, delivering it in an apologetic and placating tone. "It is currently the time whereby the roses of the Christmas season as well as those we brought recently from Germany bloom at their peak. Please come to the main hall where the view of the flowers will be better, you will be able to see the garden from there. It is our wish to provide you with the best scenery of the blooming flowers in the day." There was a brief silence as they crossed the house before Sebastian began to talk once again as they neared the hall's doors. "I refurbished the main hall a few days back. I have taken the liberty to order a wallpaper with a lovely design from France..." The demon stopped mid sentence, closing door harshly, smiling even more politely. Mouser bit her lip, wincing when the sound of china crashing on the floor reached her ears. Sebastian was starting to get annoyed too. "I have made a mistake." He repeated, covering for the servants disasters. "I think we should proceed to the greenhouse to have tea."

"Why? I thought we were here to view the main hall." The marchioness was growing suspicious as Sebastian changed direction once again, drawing them away from the hall.

"No we shall have tea first." He insisted a bit firmly. "This way please." Then he gave the most plausible excuse for the change of heart. "The two of you have been cramped in a small carriage for such a long time, both of you must be tired. I'm so sorry for not realizing this sooner I have already set up a resting corner in the greenhouse. Anyway please proceed there to help yourselves to the snacks and enjoy a cup of tea. I have coincidently purchased some excellent tangerines from Spain and I've been intending to use Ceylon tea grown in Dimbula to serve you orange flavoured black tea."

The loud explosion echoed throughout the house, the scent of smoke reaching Mouser quite clearly. She glanced at Sebastian for a moment before shivering, stepping back. He was not saying anything, just smiling.

"Have you made a mistake again? You are such an indecisive man."There was no denying the annoyance in the Marchioness voice now. The boyo was shivering in fear. Mouser stiffened behind him, feeling her arms lock, eyes wide. Sebastian bowed deep, humbly, hand placed against his chest, making his face neutral and calm. The scent of burned food was growing unbearable though.

"I'm sorry my way of handling matters are just so..." He paused as if at a loss of words before straightening. "Oh, I have just remembered that there is a place which I have been intending to let the Marchioness explore. Even though it might not be really suitable for ladies to explore it. Anyway let us all head to the stables.

* * *

"What do you think of this Marchioness?" Sebastian stood next to the purebred stallion, one hand lightly touching his head. "I have specially bought a horse with blue-black coat as the young masters' personal horse. It has always been my wish to show it to the Marchioness." The irritable expression she had displayed earlier was gone now as she examined the creature. It seemed Sebastian last attempt to salvage the visit had been quite a success.

"Whoa. It is indeed a splendid horse." A gloved finger was tapping her chin as the Marchioness declared the creature worthy of praise. "It has a nice build and possesses a good look." She approached, placing a gentle hand on the horse's forehead, caressing the silky black coat, smiling delighted when it whinnied, shaking its head." Ohya..." There was a glint of anticipation in her eyes as she glanced at the boyo. "Ciel do you want to go hunting with me right now?

"With Aunt?" The boyo asked, appraising the Marchioness, turning slightly, his face a mask of surprise.

"This is a good opportunity for me to observe what kind of man my daughter is going to marry." The Marchioness answered with a straight face and a logic that any man would have a hard time to pierce without being shredded to pieces. "Or perhaps hunting is too strenuous for Earl Phantomhive who possesses the small skinny build of a girl?" Followed by a masterfully delivered taunt clearly made to goad the overly competitive boyo. Mouser smiled slightly, still growing accustomed to the scent of hay and a bit wary of the horse. Most city people were, as a horse would easily trample them. She could ride though. It would be hard to pilfer a horse and get away from the coppers if one couldn't.

"Alright." The boyo said, straightening, his face changing to a calculating cold look. "Sebastian go make preparations." The butler bowed, answering the request.

"Ciel let's have a competition." The Marchioness announced. "Miss Crows." Mouser looked at her for a moment, blinking in surprise before answering.

"Yes Marchioness?"

"Kindly help me to change into hunting gear. It should be in the carriage."

"Understood." Mouser bowed and walked away, towards the Midford's travel carriage, asking the driver about the Marchioness luggage.

* * *

_Mouser had a vague idea of where she was being led to but she did not ask nor was she informed. The Headmistress just delivered her to a maid with harsh eyes through the backdoor. She was taken to a room. But she didn't look around, standing with her back towards the door that the maid closed and locked. The knife was opened slowly with a smile, holding it against her chest, held in her right hand, left over the closed fist. From behind it would simply look like she was praying. The girl allowed a sigh to leave her lips._

It was a very similar feeling of not wanting to be near or any part of that scene that unfolded but an order had been given. Just think you're strapping Charlotte into one of those opera dresses when the maid is a bit late, Mouser told herself. Fortunately the Marchioness was revealed as an adept of the latest theories when it came to female clothing. A practical woman it seemed.

Mouser dealt as quickly as possible with the jacket, the dress, the corsets and petticoats, placing them on the guest room's bed, preparing the hunting gear, surprised when she found a dark mustard and hunter-green tweed man-fashion inspired ensemble complete with matching soft bonnet. The thief chuckled and turned, standing straight, awaiting further instructions.

"As you see practicality and common sense rules all." The Marchioness returned Mouser's words, seemingly amused, approaching in the bare minimum compulsory underwear. "I do not require help for these clothes." Mouser bowed her head as she was dismissed. "One more thing." The Marchioness grabbed her suddenly by the forearm, clearly feeling the hidden dagger. Mouser said nothing until she was freed and allowed to leave.

Outside the door she allowed a sight out, walking down the corridor, towards the charred kitchen. Sebastian was preparing the picnic basket. Mouser groaned and sat at the table, looking blankly forward.

_She remembered the man coming into the room, door locked in his wake, walking towards her, gripping her shoulders, dragging her closer. She gave him no time to see the blade, turning, stabbing him through the crotch first, twisting the knife hard, kicking over the bloodied fabric as he screamed in pain, making him kneel, the skirt ripping, going around him, hugging his head against his chest, gripping his chin, garbling his shouts of pain, slashing his throat for silence, teeth clenched._

_The maid had come running, opened the door, fleeing the scene screaming. _

_Mouser had walked out into the night, hiding her knife after cleaning it on the dress, bloodstained and tired. She wandered towards the East End, towards the Dancing Pig. Jack... maybe this would be the time she would be able to go, to leave..._

"You seem distracted." Mouser looked up, smiling slightly, moving away from the bothersome memory that didn't seem to want to leave her mind, as Sebastian stood next to her. She leaned against him still sitting on the bench, twisting the upper part of her body, muffling a groan against his tailcoat, gripping the fabric. Sebastian chuckled. "There, there." The Demon patted her head playfully. That was a Marchioness induced sense of dread. Almost everyone in the household, him included seemed to share it. Mouser chuckled and let go, standing, stretching, looking around.

"Am I to go?" Mouser asked, closing her eyes, trying to do the training Sebastian demanded of her. The boyo and Lizzy were in the games room. His mood was agitated, ready for action. Hers was sugary and playful but there was some sort of bite under it that Mouser couldn't quite place but felt she should recognize. It was rather frustrating... The Marchioness was a terrifying strength. She didn't need her budding demonic senses to know that. Pluto was sleeping, almost too far for her to feel. The servants seemed to be buzzing with energy, moving around in a confusing outbreak of noisy sensations. Sebastian stood cold and soothing behind her, his arms around her body allowing her to lean against him. No souls flared into her senses this time but she could feel them as a slight jab. Also she was getting rather peckish.

"Yes." Sebastian stated, extending her an apple. Mouser picked it up, leaning against him a bit more, biting through the yellow skin, feeling the sweetness fill her mouth. Her sense of taste seemed to still be rather intact but she got hungry less and less. "It would be rather inappropriate for a man to be alone with Lady Elizabeth while the Young Master and the Marchioness hunt, would it not?"

"You are not a man." Mouser stated, reaching up, caressing his face without having her fingers and nails tangling in his black hair. "You look very handsome with your hair like that too." She half turned, tiptoeing, brushing her lips against his. He met her halfway, lips melding to hers, his arms tightening. Her free had stayed on his jaw, the other holding the apple limply. It was a promise, the taste of the apple brought sharply forth by mixing with hers, his tongue tracing her lower lip, sneakily slipping between her lips when the bell rang. They both glared at it, parting with a groan, before Mouser disentangled, fixed her clothes and hair and went to check what did the Marchioness need.

* * *

"_Evelyn dear we were so worried!" Mrs. Packard was putting on a show for the copper, hugging her even as her face scrunched in disgust and twisted in anger at the sight of the blood and torn skirt, letting go after checking if her maternal show had had its expected effect._

"_We found her like this wandering the streets." The uniformed man said._

"_Oh my... we lost her this afternoon when we were shopping in the market... We though... the worse... Charlotte!" _

_Charlotte appeared almost immediately, hugging Mouser protectively, shooting a venomous look toward the adults, a look that went unnoticed, dragging her away._

"_This is such an awful thing... If you don't mind me asking how old is the poor dear?"_

"_Twelve, officer. Evelyn is twelve."_

* * *

Mouser looked around the woods on the edges of the Phantomhive propriety as Sebastian guided the black horse that carried the boyo and his fiancée. The Marchioness followed on a silver horse, looking around sharply, taking in her surroundings, clearly going into a seasoned huntress mood.

"Sebastian?" The boyo asked, pulling the rein, stopping the horse.

"Yes." The butler stopped, looking around, examining his surroundings. "Young Master, this way." He said, guiding the horse once more.

"Does your butler serve as a hunting dog as well?" The Marchioness asked playfully.

"You can put it that way... it is somewhat true." The boyo stated without looking back as they came to a stop once again. Sebastian let go of the rein and looked around, clearing his throat, standing tall, his voice clear.

"In any case we shall stat from the vicinity of this area. The rules are: the area where you are able to shoot is bounded by a perimeter of twenty five kilometres and also is forbidden to shoot birds that are situated lower than the tree height. Is that all right?"

"It's fine." Ciel said in a dull tone, checking the area.

"We shall begin now. The time limit is three hours." Sebastian checked his clock quickly.

The Marchioness took off immediately, disappearing amongst the trees.

"Lizzie you should get off the horse." Ciel said curtly. "I'm unable to hunt like this."

"Ehh? But I am seldom able to be with you like this..." Lizzie was complaining when a shot echoed through the woods, the Marchioness returning.

"One-zero" She stated coldly, moving away once again.

"The Marchioness certainly lives up to her name." Sebastian adopted a thoughtful expression, appraising the situation. "She managed to shoot down a bird as soon as the competition started. It seems she's a bit too tough for someone like you Young Master."

"AH!" Lizzie shouted startled when Ciel suddenly moved and shot upwards, catching a bird, his competitive streak unfolding fully.

"Even though I feel a little bad towards Aunt Frances I am not loosing something that has competition written all over it." Lizzie dismounted, helped by Sebastian, the horse fidgeted, feeling the mood shift. "Lizzie stay here with Sebastian and Evelyn as it is going to be dangerous, understand?" The boyo might be talking sternly but there was a smile on his lips. He was eager to start. The horse dashed away, the sound of his hooves fading.

Lizzy smiled softly, her eyes softening.

"I'm so relieved. Ciel has finally returned to his normal self." Sebastian glanced at the young woman. Mouser watched her too. "Because Ciel was so close to Madam Red I was worried. Then I was taken and... I don't want any more unhappy memories to befall Ciel." That explained why she had placed so much importance in giving him the Shard of Hope, on trying to make him smile when they were taking her home. "That's why I try to cheer him up using my own methods. They don't normally produce the desired effect though. I tend to overdo things and anger him in the process." So sweet little Lizzy in pink and ruffles knew what her actions sometimes triggered.

"I am sure the Young Master has always kept your concerns for him in mind." Sebastian knelt, smiling for Lizzie, reassuringly. Mouser chuckled. Lizzy showed him an open smile.

"Thank you Sebastian. You are so kind." He could be when he felt like or there was something to be gained.

Shots echoed sporadically. Sebastian stood slowly, picking up the watch, checking the time.

Mouser place one hand over the girl's shoulder.

Sometimes one just needed someone there even if nothing was said.

"The competition seems to be heating up. We should start cheering them on." Sebastian noted, looking towards the trees.

* * *

"_You killed again." Charlotte said holding onto Evee, ignoring the blood without any effort. She had been so close to leaving once again and that stupid, blind, idiotic do-gooder had managed to capture her. She was tired, that was clear. During the day it was almost impossible to catch her nimble-fingered friend._

"_Yes." Evee said slowly, leaning against the other orphan, closing her eyes. "I don't know how you do it." She admitted once more, conversationally, barely awake._

_Charlotte smiled sadly. She didn't know how Evee did it either. But she was glad for it._

* * *

"It looks so cute!" Lizzy chirped happily admiring her work while sitting at the table Sebastian and Mouser were setting as the three hour limit drew nigh. Mouser smiled, the twin-tails the girl had tied her hair in bouncing, accompanied by the ends of long baby-pink satin ribbons flowing down to her waist from the rather big droopy bows that kept the hairstyle in place. It made her earrings stand out a lot more but both the boyo and his fiancée had their ears pierced so maybe it wouldn't be seen as odd by the Marchioness.

"Thank you very much for your kind words Lady Elizabeth." Mouser said, resigned, stepping back from the table, tilting her head slightly as the sound of the horses approached. She also didn't need to be linked to Sebastian to feel his amusement. He was laughing quietly to himself while doing his duties. She would laugh too if she had a mirror and Lizzy was not present.

The boyo had a momentary flinch when he saw her, dismounting, pressing his mouth shut. She heard the hiss of air of this laughter. The Marchioness said nothing although she glanced at her daughter, the expression softening for the briefest moment. Sebastian tied the horses onto a nearby tree branch, counting the kills, as the nobles took their places, glaring at each other.

"The Marchioness has hunted a total of fifteen animals with ten pheasants, two foxes and three rabbits." Sebastian announced. "The Young Master has hunted eleven pheasants, three foxes and one rabbit, making it a total of fifteen animals as well. Let us conclude this with a draw. What do both of you think?"

Mouser placed the steak and kidney pie on the table along with the salmon sandwiches, appreciating the charged atmosphere to which Lizzy seemed immune.

"I cannot take this lying down. I will not be satisfied unless there is a victor." The Marchioness sneered haughtily.

"I agree with you this time Aunt Frances even though occasions in which I agree with you are rare." The boyo sated indolently, his face a serene picture of challenge. Before they both got back to glaring up a storm.

"In that case we shall determine the winner through another competition in the afternoon." Sebastian stated, standing straight and calm.

"Of course." Ciel stated.

"No problem." The Marchioness retorted. "However it seems we have hunted all the prey available here." She leaned thoughtfully against the elbow she had placed on the table as Sebastian served the drinks. "It is best if we change venue for the afternoon session."

"Hmm you should not be worried Marchioness." Sebastian made a barely perceptible pause. Mouser tilted her head, catching the sudden change of the wind, the difference of scents. "There are still larger prey lurking about."

"Well since we decided on what to do later on let's start eating." Lizzy clapped softly, smiling, diffusing the tension. "It smells delicious..." Se began when a growl and rustle came from the trees.

A bear emerged suddenly, most likely attracted by the scent of food. Lizzy screamed, eyes widening. The boyo shouted, jumping forward, wrapping his arms around the girl, turning his back on the bear to protect. A shot echoed through the air, the growling receded until it was nothing, the massive form of the creature falling to the ground, backwards, making the table and what was placed on it rattled, the Marchioness still holding the shooting stance, booted foot braced against the wooden top, panting heavily, chair toppled behind her.

"Aunt..." The boyo exclaimed, surprised, still holding Lizzy. Then the situation sunk in his head and he chuckled. "it seems I have been defeated by you, Aunt Frances."

"Hmph it will take you at least ten more years for you to be able to defeat me." The Marchioness stood, propping the riffle against her shoulder, smirking slightly. "However you are indeed worthy of my praise for the bravery you have shown at the time when you gave your all to protect my daughter. Also I owe you one." She bowed softly in recognition. "You are indeed worth of being my son-in-law Earl Phantomhive." She straightened and walked towards the horses. "All right since the competition ended lets head back home."

* * *

It was sometime before she spoke again, making her horse slow down to trot by Sebastian's side.

"Hey, butler. You left something behind." She extended one of the silver knives slowly, staring the butler down.

"Oh my I wonder what came over me. I actually forgot a silverware behind..." Sebastian tried to joke as he took it back, concealing it with a quick flick of his wrist.

"Oh really. You actually forgot that you have left it on the bear's head. You were the one who took down that bear, am I right?" The Marchioness said acidly, looking slightly back, frowning. "My shot missed. I actually panicked when I saw my daughter in danger. I must be getting old." She scoffed self depreciating. "However isn't a butler job to ensure that his master gets all the glory? Why did you let me win on purpose?"

"The Young Master is indeed talented when it comes to compete with others. That is why he is extremely confidant of his abilities to the extent that he has this viewpoint that _there is no why I can ever lose_." Sebastian took a breath before continuing. "However in order to work towards one's goal it is necessary for one to eat the humble pie... If not one will eventually trip and fall one day. In addition, the Young Master's goal is not something that is easily attainable. This is wilful thinking on my part... I hope that the marchioness will become a role model for my master."

"In other words, I have been used."

"Of course that is not the case." Sebastian smiled politely, elaborating. "The head of the household hat I serve is a _child_. Yet at the same time he is also the _master_. It is important for the Young Master now to have an adult by his side in order to keep him in check."

"Even though your looks are very indecent that what you said was indeed accurate." The Marchioness said calmly. Mouser chuckled behind them as Sebastian's step faltered a bit. "For the sake of your master you actually made the process of teaching him the proper actions to take during different times part of your job scope." That was her conclusion and final word on the subject.

"That is because I am one hell of a butler. I will do whatever benefits the master the most." Sebastian calmly concluded.

"Hmph, you are a fellow that will never be taken advantage of."

* * *

The scenery that greeted them when the door was opened was different than expected though. The servants looked like they had gone through a street war and there was a table and decoration that was at the same time slightly singed, askew and could have been elegant if not for some detail or another. What was interesting was the immediate look of dread assumed by both master and butler as the servants explained joyfully their idea and whished the boyo a happy birthday. A glance at the Marchioness seemed to confirm their worst fears for a moment.

"Hmph. They were actually a step quicker than me... I came here especially today just for the sake of saying this..." She placed one hand over the boyo's head gently. "Happy thirteenth birthday Ciel." She turned to the household staff. "Also, everyone, I'll be counting on you to take care of my daughter and her husband in the future."

The boyo actually managed an open happy smile as he thanked his Aunt, congratulated by the servants, hugged by his fiancée. Meyrin stared at the girlish things attached to Mouser's head. Mouser shrugged and laughed with them, noticing the Marchioness aside, letting Sebastian know he hadn't fooled her. He disappeared as the Marchioness joined the small celebration.

* * *

_Mouser coughed stirring amongst the coal dust, opening her eyes slowly, regaining conscience with a groan. Darkness and coal. She sighed, calming, smiling. _

_Sanctuary. The Headmistress was furious about her attempt to escape once again but as the dead man had already paid for that night she had punished her less than she would have otherwise. Just a beating. No whip this time either. She stood on shaky legs that would show bruises soon, walking deeper into the basement to a spot where she could curl up and sleep, without having to have or be a watcher, in the reprieve she was being given._

* * *

She sneaked away, reaching for the bows, undoing the ribbons as she walked into the darkened kitchen, stopping mid-step, the pink satin falling free before she had finished pulling it, her hair flowing around her face, undone and unruly, as her eyes widened, breath caught in a gasp.

Sebastian smirked slowly, sweeping his tongue slowly over frosting-stained fingers watching as her lips parted, a slight whimper shivering in the back of her throat, pupils dilating in clear desire, red shifting deeply within the irises, answering to his own. He had gotten rid of the combed back style Mouser noted. Next to him, on the counter was a cake. And it felt like both were calling.

Mouser walked towards Sebastian, half in a daze, capturing his wrist, bringing his hand down to her lips. Her tongue slid over his fingers slowly, lapping at the frosting, eyes closing with a sigh of pleasure, nipping at his fingertips playfully, opening one red eye with a chuckle when he picked her up easily, sitting her on the counter, next to the cake. Mouser placed her hands on either side of his face, watching as he moved, their heights levelled, her legs on either side of his hips. His hands were planted on the stone, caging her.

"Are you so riled about the _indecent_ that you absolutely have to prove her right?" Mouser whispered, leaning, forehead against forehead, their lips close, her fingertips moving against his skin, sliding strands of black hair away. He said nothing, closing the distance, seizing her mouth, inviting her tongue to play. Cake... She through, mind blanking when she felt the sugary taste twinning around her tongue. It was sweet and chocolate and demon...

They stayed together in the darkness, forgotten by the party, as the weather outside grew colder and white began to blanket the country.


	14. Chapter 14

The transition from sleep to awareness was getting sharper and quicker by the day and the hours need to feel replenished were also decreasing. It did not change her natural and forcefully suppressed inclination towards enjoying sleep. Mouser sighed, rubbing her cheek against the pillow, closing her eyes again. It was still night outside and no one was stirring in the manor... She shivered when long fingers slid down her spine slowly, tempting her despite the cold air outside of the blankets.

"It's time for your lessons." Sebastian whispered against her ear.

"Please... no more French..." Mouser mumbled. Combat she could take. Sense adaptation through deprivation and stimulation was rather bearable. Sometimes even pleasant when he was in the mood for teasing. Demon lore and ways were imparted more carefully and slowly. Sparsely one could say, just the basic facts, vital to her survival. As avoid Grim Reapers and why, hide fangs and ruby-eyes and grabbing a devil dog by the scruff and pinning them down is the fastest way to have it submissive. Given the nature of the facts she understood the secrecy demanded. And surely there was need to hurry. But the lessons pertaining the elegant visage demanded of a high class servant… a shudder overrode for a moment the pleasant feeling of his hands.

"I will reward you if you perform well." His voice was as smooth as his caress as she turned slowly, staring at the plain ceiling for a moment, eyes closing slowly, purring. Her hand slipped out of the covers limply and quickly snaked inside with a hiss, snuggling closer to the main heat source of the room. Sebastian cared very little about his own fireplace.

"Cake?" She murmured against his bared chest, nuzzling the warm skin, eyes closed. His scent was still alluring, even more so as her awareness grew. And she suspected he was doing it on purpose. As in he had very little to no need for sleep but occupied the bed with her wearing... not much usually.

"_Forêt Noir_." Sebastian whispered smoothly, moving a bit, letting her climb onto his chest, using him as a pillow, the hand that was not cradled under her cheek tracing a slow nonsensical pattern over his skin.

"Blight-kissed toff..." He interrupted her slothful, aggravated rant with a sudden kiss over her parted lips, dragging her up, slipping fingers through the messy hair, tongue sneaking between the lips, teasing hers, coiling wetly in a last taunt, each stroke made of blissful warmth.

Mouser moaned, shivering, hand stopping abruptly, the unbalance he had created making her rub against him, the fabric bunching, knowing his baiting techniques full well by now.

The question was why was he offering before any lesson?

Thesudden stroke of a cold breeze against her back, managing to slip under her sleeping clothes told her that the covers were being moved, sneakily so. Mouser chuckled darkly, parting, showing him her fangs without modesty, the nails sharpening just a smidge, slipping into his skin but not far enough to draw blood in a clear threat. _Don't you dare…_ she mouthed soundlessly, eyes widening. He was smirking. She sunk her nails deeper, a feeling of dread growing.

The thief hissed when the cold air hit her body, making her jump away from the demon and the bed, miffed, muttering curses under her breath, walking towards the closet. Fine. She would get dressed and bear the damnable lessons. Sebastian chuckled softly, the sheets rustling under him.

Before she had time to do more than look over her shoulder the wall connected against her back with enough impact to snap her spine if she had been fully human still, breath wheezing out, a smirking demon pressing her against the cold surface as she gasped for air and tried to keep upright. Each gesture just made her rub against him, the heath inviting, the movements bringing a sharp, intense pleasure nipping through her. Rough play wasn't his usual style. Her growing resilience and strength gave him ample opportunity to demand more, to actually wrestle about, dominate after the struggle, getting the satisfaction to know she surrendered only to him and only after defeat. And he liked when she gave as good as she got.

Predator. Play, fear, force, pleasure.

Mouser hissed, still irked, lips parting, looking him in the eyes, the words she wanted to whip him with drying suddenly as his head dipped down, a wisp of air slithering against her neck, before he bit down, hard, licking a path over the throbbing mark, soothing it.

"_En Français_." Despite the awful _words_ used in the classes his voice, lips teasing the outer shell of her ear, tugging one of the metal rings just a bit, and his hands were promising everything once more, the gestures slow and measured. Mouser arched a bit when he found her core, moving, slipping his fingers against her, legs threatening to give out due to the shudders he was dragging out, the ribbons of her bloomers suddenly loose enough to let them just fall around her tiptoeing feet… she chose to ignore the languorous demand for the moment, focusing on the gestures, nails digging easily into the stucco that covered the walls, cracking it with little grinding sounds, a blissful moan leaving her lips, arching, showing him her throat. He didn't let the invitation pass, nipping the skin, sending jolts of awareness through her. Had his arms not been around her and the wall firmly against her back she was rather sure her knees would have met the ground.

Sebastian simply had a vast repertoire of trickery and finagling to leave her willing to let him have his way, any way.

Good grief… _repertoire? _

Mouser frowned suddenly battling the pleasant feel of his hands slipping up her waist, cupping her breasts, thumb and forefinger pinching her nipples suddenly, making her jump, nails leaving a trail up the wall, while getting the fabric out of the way, some of the pieces clicking into place, her awareness broken once more by a hungry gaze, sharp small bites along her collarbone convincing her to raise her arms, to be bared for him.

Wordlessly she arched into the warm hard body, away from the still too cold wall, arms going around his neck, kissing him back, teasing his tongue playfully, invading his mouth, nipped in return, caressing his back, scratching offering part of the pain that only made her shiver, desire growing, one foot on the floor, tiptoeing, balance precarious, the other leg going around his waist, his warm hand slipping up her thigh, dragging her closer, cradling his hips against her warm wetness, the female undulating, keening against his mouth in pleasure, blinded by the pleasure, by the uncoiling of all the tension he had built within her.

It was maddeningly easy the way he was able to undo her and yet… Mouser arched after catching her breath and finding her bearings, nipping his neck, slowly, affectionately, kissing a path down his chest, gasping in surprise when he simply picked her up, allowing both legs to loop around his waist, sheathing himself deeply into her as he pinned her against the wall. The demon groaned lustfully, the small sound conveying his own pleasure as surely as each stroke, each caress, each movement…

Sebastian did make her scream in French till grey stained the windows and it was time to start the household routine. Funny how one caught easily on the swear words, no matter what language they were on.

* * *

The crowd gathered in front of the coffeehouse was enough to pinpoint the latest crime location. Curious rich onlookers, commoners just passing by, bourgeois out to enjoy the place, people that had walked out of their hiding places in the cold weather to gawk at the cases that were making the sensation press's days in bold lettering and salacious overtones with blood and speculation as top sellers.

The coppers seemed to be having some difficulty in dampening the panicked shrieks and fainting ladies, the outraged gentlemen trying to help and the occasional thief in the middle of the confusion, fast fingers working while the distraction proved solid. Mouser looked away from the scene beyond carriage's window glancing at the boyo who reread the Queen's missive once again, folding it between gloved fingers.

"Let's go." Ciel said determined, standing, hunching because of his top-hat, slipping the letter inside his cape, balancing the cane.

The carriage door was opened, Sebastian waiting outside, calm and collected, glancing at the scene too.

Almost by instinct the crowd parted as they approached, allowing them passage, the worried words and cries blurring into a sort of buzzing sound, weaving indistinctively around them.

Lord Randall was a well known face in the underworld. As was the temper he was displaying towards his wide-eyed idealist of a subordinate, the same inspector that had been in charge of the missing girls and ring case. His shouts reached over the crowd, over the orders to stay away uttered by his guards. Mouser arched an eyebrow, amused when the old man started to spout grievances against the boyo, unaware of their arrival.

"Sorry to be such a brat." The boyo stated coldly, tapping his cane on the cobblestones with a sharp sound, making inspector and commissioner look that way, startled. The hanged men were being taken down, cared for. Bruised, battered, dizzied by the surge of blood to their heads but not dead. Close to dying though as the cold was unforgiving. The onlookers whispered in terror once again.

"Earl Phantomhive." The distaste in the Scotland Yard's leader was almost palpable, harsh and wintry. "Why are you here?"

"Isn't it obvious? I'm here to clean up the mess made by an old pathetic hunting dog." No kindness from the boyo. So the distaste was mutual. Mouser pinpointed what she needed to take. Aberlain gasped in shock suddenly, the stack of information about the case gone from his hands, the disappearance unnoticed as the young lord spoke. Mouser bowed her head slightly, giving the papers to the boyo, keeping her face neutral, amusement dancing inside her. Faster. So much faster… She glanced at the fat purses around her, old habits coming to mind. The old dog didn't seem too pleased either, sharing his subordinate's surprise. "Hmm... is that so... a crime targeted only to people who have returned to England from India. I see the victims are not dead." He gave the information to Mouser, walking forward towards the old hound. The thief passed the burden onto Sebastian.

"You cannot just..." Lord Randall began, cut short by the crest lacquered onto the Queen's missive being show to him, a clear reminder of his status and position.

"If it was just a highwayman I wouldn't get involved." Ciel said sweetly, straightening in pride. "However I won't sit by and watch the Royal Family be insulted." He gave the Commissioner no choice but to hand over the papers, examining them leisurely while the man fumed. "The victims are described as "children of sloth and depravity"... which is quite accurate." The boyo looked up, conversationally. "I agree that England would be better off without India's wealthy upstarts."

"They are cowards who were too busy with extravagance and indulged in worthless pastimes. Most of them are upper class people in this so called Great Britain." While Lord Randall seemed to share the boyo's opinion the distaste didn't wane. Mouser made another trip with the papers, delivering the second batch to Sebastian, standing next to him, carefully watching the coppers, the crowd and the ones that walked by. No one of her ilk that might be of help walked about.

"Upper class... how worthless..." The boyo was unimpressed, reading the missive pinned to the victim's ropes once again. "Anyways what is this mark?" He noticed, tongue darting out for a moment in mimicry.

"He is making a fool of us British and the queen." Lord Randall's voice rose in fury, startling some of the nearby people. "What an idiot! Targeting only those who return from India means this criminal can't be anyone other than a common Indian barbarian."

"Commissioner Randall please calm down..." Aberlain said, gesturing, his expression frightened, unsettled by his superior's outburst.

"So that is why I was called out here." The boyo closed his eye for a moment, thinking, glancing at the Scotland Yard, smirking slightly. "The majority of smuggled in Indians are located in the East End. I can see that even the Scotland Yard has no idea how many or where they hide in the dark streets. So I'll make a move in my own way." He sighed, finishing his appraisal of the Queen's task, tapping the cane once more, looking irked. "I want to return to the manor house quickly. Sebastian did you memorize those documents?"

"Yes." Sebastian organized the papers, returning them to Aberlain with a slight nod. "Thank you very much."

"Let's go then." The boyo turned away without further comment, waiting until they were a bit farther away to glance at Mouser. "Mouser."

"_Oui_?" The thief said, distracted, looking towards him, her voice slightly rough. She stopped for a moment, frowning, blinking a couple of times in bafflement.

"You know where they are?" The boyo asked succinctly, not really noticing.

"Aye." Mouser said slowly and deliberately, grinning slightly within a sideways glare at Sebastian, after a soft cough, clearing the tone.

"Take us there."

"Aye, aye." Now she just sounded slightly amused if a bit bored.

* * *

The streets were deserted but that was to be expected. Possibly an ambush was in place, seeing that the boyo looked very much like his rich self. In the narrow corridors in-between dilapidated buildings that could spell disaster. The grey clouds allowed little light through and promised snow. Old snow was either accumulated on whatever shady place it could find melted or shovelled away. The boyo was so distracted looking at the squalor that surrounded him, at the people that glanced away as the group passed or just kept on walking, that he did not notice the Indian man that had purposely placed himself on his path, smacking into him, staggering back.

Mouser steadied the boyo with no comment, examining the man who doubled over, pretending to groan in pain, attracting the rest of his comrades. Sebastian allowed an exasperated sigh to escape, glancing at the rushing Indians that started to surround them.

"My ribs! They are cracked." Bad, bad acting. Mouser looked around, carefully, appraising the trap. Sloppily done, most likely a loose plan coupled with the spur of the moment... The boyo didn't have the bulk to crack an egg if he walked over it.

"Someone come and help!" The others started to talk, tightening the circle, participating. "Are you ok?" Voices and faces had no relevance, their words mingling. "What is wrong?" Some whispered. "He is so cruel." Others added, furthering the situation. The tones they were using still failed to convey any sense of surprise and reality.

Mouser kept her arms crossed under the cape, hands around the daggers' hilts.

"Showing in a place like this." The Indian that supposedly was in such a terrible pain grasped the boyo's cape, scrunching the fabric, dragging him towards himself. "You're asking for it." The man sneered. "Those are some nice clothes you got there young man. A noble heh?" Ciel slapped the thug's hand away without care, glaring.

The man recoiled to strike, forgetting the pantomime they had been performing. Sebastian moved, two fingers poking his forehead, knocking him into the ground effortlessly. The surprised Indian took the chance to further his act, remembering the trick he was supposed to play.

"Pay me consolation money." The Indian demanded, sitting, faking weakness, helped by his compatriots into a standing position. "Strip off everything you have and give it to me." He demanded greedily.

"Amateurs." Mouser scoffed. Ciel said nothing looking blankly around.

"It seems we are caught amongst some loutish thugs yet again Young Master." Sebastian stated calmly, looking down at the boyo, pausing, waiting for commands before pressing the issue. "Shall I..."

"Dispose of them right away." Ciel stated calmly, tapping his cane once more, lips thinned into an annoyed line.

"As you wish." Sebastian acquiesced, pulling his glove into place, smirking.

"I'll tell you... all of us here despise noblemen." The play was over, a knife drawn. "They brought us all the way to England and then dumped us like trash. All you British are selfish."

"That's right." An ominous chorus started to pipe in, agreeing with every word.

"Because of you guys we ended up living like miserable gutter rats. Our country was walked all over by your shoes. We'll give you a taste of how it feels to be plundered and humiliated." Rage, hatred, petty vengeance. Any of them had reason to perform the inverse hangings.

Mouser frowned, looking around, appraising the increasingly agitated mob. But they looked like the regular kind of street brutes. It was unlikely that this group had done the beating and hangings without any further vandalizing of the places where the victims had been found. Also leaving a letter didn't seem like their style.

"First of all I have something to ask." Another voice cut through the angry mutters but the words were ignored, weaved through the angry ranting. "If the answer is useful I'll treat you to some delicious food as reward." The same voice continued, apparently unable to read the mood.

"That's right tasty food!" The mob seemed to have grasped the more attractive idea.

"Fish is good" A voice said, while still keeping the tone threatening.

"I feel hungry." Another piped in.

Mouser chuckled softly behind her hand, back to back with Sebastian, the boyo in-between them.

"Wait..." they began to catch on, looking around, dumbfounded, improvised weapons lowering as they exchanged glances. "That's not how it goes..." the Indian crowd parted slightly, turning around towards the interloper.

Mouser's eyes widened and she purred. So many sparkly golden jewellery that one could steal and pawn away... and as the Yard and coppers did not care for Indian even if he complained, even if he looked rich and important... so many jewels... then her eyes shifted towards the man that accompanied him. Bodyguard, clearly. The law of England might not have prevented her from waylaying that walking meal ticket but the presence of the white haired Indian that stood deferentially behind the richly dressed young man would definitely made her reconsider the target.

"We're searching for someone." He began, showing a childish drawing of a woman to the confused mob. "Have you seen any Indians who look like this?" There was a very polite tone to use on an angry armed group.

"What the... you're in the way you bastard!" The man that had started the play advanced, the knife brought to the young man's face height.

"How rude, calling me such impolite things." Either he had no sense of fear or he was _that_ confident on his companions' capabilities. Either boded badly.

"What are you guys joining in the fight too?" As a fellow Indian he should, that was the man's reasoning. The young man looked beyond his countryman for the first time, examining the ones that were being threatened. "Hey you're ignoring me!"

"He has a khansama..." His thoughtful whisper reached them as he straightened, adopting a more regal, demanding air. "You are a British noblemen?"

"So what if I am?" Ciel answered curtly, displaying his own noble-forged attitude.

"Then I shall side with the people of my country." The young man stated, tilting his head slight towards the white haired man, sure that any request would be answered. "Agni..."

"Yes." Agni had a deep voice and a calm countenance.

"Defeat them"

"Jo anja." He complied, bandaged hand placed over his heart, bowing his head slightly. "I will swing my fists blessed by God for my master's sake." He began to pull the fabric that covered his tanned hand free

"What the..." The boyo shouted suddenly as Sebastian picked him up by the waist, like a toddler, the top hat falling, as the butler defended himself from the fast strikes using his free arm.

The demon's red eyes narrowed suddenly although his expression didn't change. Agni moved from attack to attack and although Sebastian hadn't even considered retaliating yet it was clear he couldn't do so with an armful of Young Master. He shoved the boyo into Mouser's arms as she moved out of Agni's way.

"Sorry about that." She whispered, amused, readjusting the boyo whose face had landed squarely on her chest, dodging one of the Indians that had first threatened them.

"Don't forget that we are here also!" The one with knife was shouting, aiming for Sebastian's back. Nonchalantly the demon dodged Agni's strike, making it land squarely on the man's face, knocking him flat.

"I'm sorry brother I'll tend to it later." Agni moved on after that quick apology. Sebastian either dodged, making the Indian take out his own kinsman or defending each precise strike of his hands. Agni stepped back, his position still a combative one, eyes narrowed in suspicion. "I've hit your marman countless times. Your arm should be paralyzed. How is it you can move?"

"Put me down." Ciel demanded as Mouser sidestepped another man. She obeyed, grabbing a wrist, pushing the man to the ground, driving her heel down on his crotch, making him howl in pain. "Hey." The boyo shouted, getting the attention of the one that had ordered the white haired bodyguard into action. "We had barely set foot on this place and those guys picked a fight with us. Do all Indians act like barbarians and indiscriminately attack the British?"

"What?" That caught the young man's attention. And he didn't seem pleased by that bit of information. "You lot. Did you really attack this kid for no reason?"

"A reason?" one of the shabbily dressed man that had stopped fighting asked, looking to his companions, confused.

"That's not right. Picking a fight for no reason is childish." The bejewelled Indian stood taller, his voice scolding. "Agni. Our brothers are the ones wrong here. We shall help this kid now."

There was a quick flurry of punches and movement as Agni disposed of the Indians, piling them in a stunned heap of dazed man. Ciel stared in shock. Mouser's eyes were wide in frank admiration of the force and precision needed to both keep up with Sebastian, even he hadn't taken the offensive, and dispose of a group. Sebastian looked impressed too, possibly confused about the sudden change of heart of the young man.

"It's done lord Soma" Agni exclaimed happily.

"That's right." Soma said, nodding in approval, walking over to them, picking up the boyo's unarmed top hat. "So you guys I hope you're not hurt."

"No" Sebastian answered for the confounded boyo after a brief hesitation.

"Also this kind of area isn't a place for a kid to wander about." Soma plopped the hat on the boyo's head much to his annoyance. "Anyhow I'm in the middle of a search I need to attend to. Goodbye." And so he and his bodyguard disappeared on the twisted streets.

Sebastian shook his head, approaching the pile of men, examining them. Mouser sighed and looked around. Knowing the place something else might be lurking around.

"Well seems like our first job is to deliver these people to the Scotland Yard." Sebastian pointed out, straightening, glancing at the boyo.

* * *

"I am completely drained..." The boyo complained as Sebastian helped him out of the cloak. Mouser closed the door and got rid of the protection too, pulling the gloves away from her hands, flexing cold fingers, walking towards the small decorative table and its silver tray where letters were accumulated after delivery, waiting for sorting. "This is so tiresome... and snow is beginning to fall." Ciel continued to complain while Sebastian put the coats and cane away.

"The criminals may have been among them. Let's wait to hear Commissioner Randall report." Sebastian was using the plain, empty conciliatory tone that should be used to calm ones' master. Mouser shrugged, doubting such a simple solution.

"Calling me to London because of such a boring case..." The boyo continued his rant, walking towards the stairs.

"Young master." Finny peeked happily from the corridor, the servants attracted by the noise of the carriage and door.

"Welcome home." Bard followed the gardener-boy, smiling.

"Indeed." Meyrin flattened her skirt, skipping along, smiling, adjusting her glasses as the three walked into the entry hall, bowing in a formal greeting. Mouser put the letters down, lighting a cigarette relaxing a bit, looking towards the door as the sound of steps came from the outside. She frowned slight, counting before the door was pushed open.

"Ah earl you really did come." Lau greeted happily, RanMao nowhere in sight for once, walking towards the boyo, placing his hands on his shoulders amicably, giving him a quick appraising look. "Well you can't help but bark if there is some sort of threat to the Queen. This is part of being a pitiful watchdog, isn't it Earl." Lau hid his hands on the large sleeves once again, ignoring the anger that was building within the boyo.

"Why is it you're always unannounced." Ciel finally said, turning towards the Chinese. "I keep telling you. If you're going to visit at least send a letter or something first." Mouser shook her head, the smoke following her gesture. Most likely he did it on purpose to see the boyo's face red and raging.

"Have you said that?" Lau tilted his head, chuckling softly, looking sideways. "I see you have brought the servants this time..."

"It would be troublesome and an eventual burden if we left them at home." Sebastian stated, his expression grim. Thinking about the burned wing that had greeted them last time. "Also we somehow acquired a guard hound." And he still was not happy about it. Mouser chortled quietly and glanced at the doorway. She could have sworn... ah. "Since we have guests now and the Young Master is likely tired from the cold, I shall prepare some tea."

"Fine." Ciel relented, touching his forehead, eye closed in resignation.

"I prefer an English chai blend." A new voice interrupted.

"Fine." The boyo said once more before glancing at the speaker, his expression dropping into absolute shock, staring. Mouser blew smoke softly as Agni closed the door, the man that held his obedience standing proudly on the foyer, looking around critically, whispering to himself about the town house's narrowness, looking slightly disappointed.

"Ah I met them around the corner. They said they wanted to meet the Earl." Lau stated happily, turning towards the newcomers, hands still in the sleeves.

"Why in blazes are you here?" The boyo shouted, finally cracking.

Sebastian stood next to the Young Master, looking slightly aghast. Most likely had though, like her, that the other set of footsteps had belonged to the hidden guards that sometimes followed Lau. As Sebastian had taught sometimes one needed to ignore parts of the world or their senses would be overwhelmed. It was simple instinct.

"Why? We got acquainted earlier did we not? Did you forget?" The young man said. Mouser frowned a bit. He had a slightly skewed view of reality, didn't he now? The other servants were staring, eyes wide and bright, dazzled. The jewels tended to give that effect to pretty much anyone. "Besides I saved you. In India it's common to welcome and entertain benefactors. We even have a saying for that: _Entertain your guests even if you have to sell your treasures_." The teen announced dramatically before resuming his looking around. "Oi, where is the bed?"

The white haired bodyguard disappeared when he heard the last sentence, going upstairs.

"Why are you looking for a bed?" Lau asked, keeping the conversation flowing while Ciel seemed to be too incensed to speak.

"In my country we sit together with the guests on the bed."

In this country any kind of bed talk would be seen as rather raunchy, Mouser pondered.

"Prince! Prince I found it!" Agni came downstairs, grinning happily, pleased with his discovery, signalling his master to follow.

"Listen to me!" Ciel shouted suddenly as the man started to go upstairs, following his servant.

"Meh... However narrow I decided I've decided to stay here." Soma announced, condescending, disappearing into the upper floor.

"Wait a minute why do I have to look after you guys." The boyo continued to shout, following, half running to catch up as the Indians went towards one of the guest rooms.

"I didn't really consider staying at an inn." The guest's voice reached them smoothly.

Mouser's eyes widened as she and Sebastian reached the doorway, staring at the increase in valuable baubles that were being displayed by the young man's removal of the cloak.

"Is it common for England to throw their benefactors out in the cold?" Soma was asking while lounging carelessly on the bed, smiling smugly.

"Apart from that just who..." Ciel still hadn't managed to regain his quintessential British gentleman countenance. "Who the hell do you think you are anyway?"

"Me?" Soma moved, peeking, laying on his side, displaying his wealth and style. "I'm a Prince." He stated slowly, rolling the word.

"A prince?" Sebastian stated, slightly surprised.

"This person is the twenty sixth child to the King of the Princely State of Bengal. Prince Soma Ashman Kadar." Agni stated, formally introducing the prince.

"I'm going to stay for a while now, little one." Soma announced as if an honour beyond imagining was being bestowed on them. The boyo froze, his expression of absolute horror and annoyance darkening the room. Mouser chuckled, rolling her eyes as the other servants peeked into the room, trying to see the cause of the ruckus.

"Then as a symbol of our new friendship I will serve chai." Agni stated happily, producing a ginger root from his cloak. "On a cold day chai tea with ginger can't be beat. May I borrow your kitchen?" He continued his speech, walking out of the room followed by a slightly bothered Sebastian.

"Wait... serving tea is my thing..."

"Amazing... are you really a prince?" Finny was unable to contain his excitement for a moment more, looking with bright eyes at the foreigner.

"A Prince?" Meyrin whispered in awe, hands clasped in front of her chest, her expression reverent behind the lenses. Those were the creatures that populated the overwrought romances the ladies read.

"This is the first time I'm seeing a prince..." Bard mentioned, arms crossed, caught between being impressed and concerned.

All in all Soma was being eyed like some exotic creature. He seemed to enjoy the attention though.

"I shall allow you to come close." The Indian Royal said with a wide, practiced gesture. The servants weren't shy about acquiescing, surrounding him, showering with admiration and questions.

"So what kind of place is Bengal?"

"It's an Holy country that received the blessings of the goddess Kali and the Ganges River." Soma elaborated solemnly, caught on his own importance and the beauty he saw in his kingdom.

"So you're a prince from a holy country?"

Mouser smirked, shaking her head, pressing the small ember of the dying cigarette against her knuckles, the pain sharp and brief, the burn dissipating quickly.

Lau walked into the room, standing behind the Boyo, smiling blissfully.

"It seems like there is going to be some lively times ahead eh earl?" The Chinese asked with perfect innocence plastered on his features, ignoring the thundering around Ciel's small frame.

"Get out!" The latest shout had no more effect than the ones that had preceded it. Ignored he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Mouser." She hummed, acknowledging his call. "My orders... keep an eye on them." She smiled, lowering her head slightly, eyes flaring red for a moment as she glanced down at him.

"Aye, aye."


	15. Chapter 15

The boyo's scream reverberated throughout the mansion two full hours before he was supposed to be awakened. Mouser looked up from her secretarial duties, exchanging a glance with Sebastian who leaned over her shoulder as the day was adjusted according to the needs of education and work. And adding to that the boyo's demand to spend as little time as possible with their unwanted guests.

"Those are some lungs..." Mouser whispered in admiration, closing the black planner, leaning back on the chair as Sebastian checked the clock with an aggravated sigh.

"It seems the Young Master was awakened a bit earlier than usual." The butler stated, closing the silver piece, slipping it into his pocket, waiting for her to stand, both leaving the study, the bound volume left behind, waiting for a moment after whatever crisis disturbed the morning had been dealt with.

"He'll be grouchy all day, no doubt about it." Mouser retorted, resigned, as Sebastian knocked politely on the door behind which the commotion continued, made mostly from the boyo's shouts, grunts and protests.

"Excuse me..." Sebastian pushed the door open. "Young..." He was cut midsentence staring at the scene inside. Mouser stared too, standing behind him, eyes widening in surprise and amusement. The boyo in his sleeping clothes, bedraggled and disoriented, squirming as Agni carried him towards the doorway either happily ignoring the less than sunny disposition or outright unaware of it. He hadn't stopped shouting his confusion, demanding to be set down.

"The food will get cold if you don't hurry." The Indian was saying, smiling.

"Wait a second...What the hell?" The boyo was shouting after a moment of quiet, processing the words, noticing his butler suddenly, taking note of the lack of any action to correct the situation. He would not believe an excuse like too stunned to act. Mouser on the other hand was having a moment of too stunned to laugh.

"My, my... it's been lively in here since earlier this morning..." Lau joined the group by the door suddenly, smiling happily as the struggle continued, having walked out of his assigned guest room. It was unclear why he decided to stay when his house was in London and as luxurious as the Phantomhive town manor, if not more. Most likely he had wanted to see as much as the Ciel vs. Foreigner spectacle as possible.

"Sebastian!" The trio of servants came running through the corridors, panicked, the thundering steps muffled by the thick carpeting. Lau's blissful smile widened a bit more as the events overlapped.

"Can the three of you please remember we are in the presence of guests." Sebastian scolded, twitching in annoyance as they stopped, panting and gesturing in front of the butler, trying to convey urgency. "What's wrong..." He pressed one hand against his forehead, sighing. "did you... again?"

They were complaining, loudly, close to a panic.

"It's weird." Meyrin was the one that spoke clearly first."

"The food, the clothes." Bard continued, chewing nervously on his burnt out cigarette.

"The yard." Finny said after the cook, hands clenched in front of his chest.

"Weird?" Sebastian repeated, careful about the word, gesturing them to lead the way.

"Put me down!" Behind them the struggled continued, the shouts growing a bit more frantic. Lau tilted his head, choosing what scene he preferred to watch.

Mouser took a deep breath, stopping Agni, smiling politely.

"Mister Agni..." Mouser approached, picking the boyo by the waist, faking effort as she extracted him from the Indian's arms, placing him down. Ciel looked a bit queasy as she patted his shoulder, letting him stay a bit behind to prevent any picking up. "It would be best to leave the Young Master for now. Sebastian will return as soon as whatever is preoccupying the others is taken care of..."

"Oh... Of course." Agni smiled and looked away, a slight frown creasing his brow. "I was just so eager to perform Lord Soma's request... I'm afraid I might be the cause of their distress."

* * *

"What happened?" Sebastian asked quietly, almost to himself as he looked around. There was a very definite Indian feel to the new decoration, to the scents on the dining room, to the snow statues he could see in the garden, through the windows. All was perfectly done and placed, prepared to impress.

"It was presumptuous of me but I have prepared all this myself." Agni walked into the dining room, bowing slightly. Mouser walked behind him, looking around too, apparently fascinated by the new environment. They had heard moving about but dismissed it as the servants going about their routines…

"Oh you shouldn't have. Please just relax as you are our guests." Sebastian walked towards Agni, clearly trying to keep him out of his tasks. Mouser smiled. He could be slightly territorial in certain situations.

"Oh but it's nothing." Agni justified, reassuring him, smiling politely. "The prince is of course excluded. However I am a mere servant. So I think the least I can do is lend the hard working Sebastian a hand." Bright, sweet, just a bit of shadowy spots... Such a pretty soul. Mouser shook her head, blinking when that overwhelmed her usual sense of sight. Control... breathe and close the eyes because they had certainly gone red.

"Agni..." Sebastian said slowly, his tone rather surprised, staring at the smiling solicitous man.

"He's the fairy-tale version of you..." Mouser whispered, peeking when she felt anchored in normal perceptions once again. The sugary ones the benefactor Lady of the orphanage read to the girls as part of her yearly socially demanded good deed.

Sebastian glanced at the dazzled servants, his expression growing a bit frigid before developing into a sweet bright smile. Mouser bit her lip, trying to keep from shuddering in foreboding or crack up laughing like a loon.

"Why don't you all kneel down on the ground and beg for even a mere scrap of Agni's talent. Perhaps it would improve even you a little." The butler said, his voice dripping honeyed sarcasm.

There was a slight pause before the trio mobbed Agni, eagerly, voices mingling into an indefinite mumble of words, sentences and pleas.

"_Gimme scarps, some scraps" _

"_Me too..."_

"_Save some!"_

"What's wrong?" Agni was saying, confused amidst the pleading typhoon.

Tanaka just uttered his trademark slow chuckle and watched.

"You really should know better." Mouser smiled. "Sarcasm does not work when they are distracted." It led to situations like that, the words taken too literally and next thing one knew they were on their knees picking broken crockery with a trio of apologies echoing on the background.

"Aren't you going to beg too?" Sebastian allowed a bit of amusement to gloss over his annoyance.

"I do enough of that with you." Mouser stated playfully, had sliding into his pocked, a bit intimately, sneaking a caress on his thigh, over the fabric, picking up his watch, groaning as she checked the time. "Go help the boyo. I'll try to keep any more damage from happening here."

* * *

"So... how long do you intend to stay in my house?" Prawn curry and French toast with ginger were placed elegantly on the table before the guests and the boyo. Mouser and Sebastian stood behind his chair while Agni stood by prince Soma's side. Lau was simply enjoying the food, sitting to the boyo's left, pretending to be unaffected. Ciel tone was curt and acidic.

"We'll leave once our work is done." Soma said, chewing on some sort of flatbread, the words muffled.

"And that is?" Ciel prodded, anger starting to show on his features.

"Aren't you two looking for someone?" Lau piped in helpfully, tasting the curry, using chopsticks. Where he'd gotten them was anyone's guess although Mouser would bet on the sleeves. If anyone knew where to hide trinkets were the underworld dwellers.

"So what if they are..." Ciel began, glaring at the Chinese for interfering, noticing once again the aggravating presence that was still not clear. "And why do you need to stay here also?"

"What's wrong with me staying here?" Lau laughed, carefree, shrugging.

"Yes. We're looking for a lady. This lady." Soma ignored the side argument and took a drawing from his coat, showing it. It was the same childish doodle with big eyes, big nose and mop hair. "Her name is Meena. She was a maidservant at my palace." Then he glanced at the page with a small proud smile. "I drew that. I drew it so good that once you see her in person you'll recognize her for sure. Isn't she a beauty?"

Mouser pursed her lips, saying nothing.

"Sebastian can you find her from this?" Ciel asked, gesturing him to take the paper.

"Even for me that's..." Sebastian managed to hide a grimace, straightening formally after a moment of analysing. "I'll try my best..."

"Well I've never seen such a beautiful lady." Lau said, looking at the drawing, using all his skill as a people pleaser, smiling, nodding and looking very agreeable.

"Of course. She was the most beautiful lady in my palace." Soma stated proudly, cleaning his hands before clapping them together in front of his chest. "Thank you for the meal."

"So why is this woman in England?" Ciel began only to look away enraged when the pair ignored him, kneeling in front of some strange idol Agni had dragged into the room, a continuous murmur coming from them. "Listen!" Still ignored the boyo groaned, staring at the statue, confounded. "What the hell is this all of a sudden? Where did they get that statue from?"

"It seems they are praying to that rather surreal figure of a god." Lau stood, watching the ritual as the boyo approached. Sebastian moved closer too, curious.

"A figure of a god?" The butler said quietly, pressing his fist against his chin, tilting his head. "It's just a statue of a woman who is holding a man's head, wears a severed heads necklace and happily dances on a man's stomach." Sebastian described thoughtfully.

"Something like that." Lau commented happily.

"That's how I see it." Sebastian finished calmly, rubbing his chin, the gesture mostly meaningless. Mouser approached, walking around the table, peeking.

"This is a statue of Kali from the Hindu religion we have faith in." Agni explained, interrupting his prayer, turning towards them, his expression calm and kind.

"So it's a god from India?" Ciel asked slowly, also appraising the statue more closely.

"Our Kali goddess is the wife of our god Shiva and also the goddess of power. She protects from misfortune and give us lots of benefits." Agni gazed at the statue before continuing his explanation. "A long time ago a demon recklessly challenged the goddess to a fight. Of course the victory went to Kali. However her destructive urges didn't settle down after his defeat. The goddess became absorbed in destruction and massacres, making a necklace of the man she killed, drinking their blood."

"So the damage the goddess made was greater than what the demon did. That's surprising." Lau interjected, nodding.

Mouser glanced at the heads and hands that adorned the statue. A rather gruesome taste but she knew a guy who collected the knuckles of his kills. And then there was another who pickled the tongues of the ones that owed him money.

"Other gods couldn't stop the goddess who had decided to destroy the world. At that time in order to protect the world her husband the god Shiva lay down at her feet." Agni continued, engrossed into the story.

"Ah. So that's why he's being stepped on." Sebastian concluded. "Of course... it was just a matrimonial quarrel."

"So if I'm ever angry at you I should knock you down and jump on your stomach?" Mouser whispered behind him, listening to a slight chuckle.

"Maybe he should have done that before so many were killed." Ciel stated, unimpressed.

"Having stepped on her husband with unclean feet the goddess calmed and the world returned to its peaceful state. In other words Kali is a great goddess who defeated a demon after a time of struggle. She is holding the head of the defeated demon as proof." Agni finished, hands together, bowing slightly, respectfully.

"So you say." Ciel said calmly, glancing at Sebastian's thoughtful expression.

"If such a strong person exists I should be careful when I go to India." The demon pondered, ignoring Agni's confused look.

"So I finished praying now." Soma stood, dusting his knees, quickly making a grab for the boyo, tucking him under his arms, walking towards the door. "Let's go little one. You'll be my guide."

"Why me?" Ciel shouted angrily, squirming in the teen's grip. "Besides I have a name. Not little one. I am Ciel..."

"Then Ciel I order you to lead the way." Soma was undaunted.

"I am deeply sorry but it has already been scheduled for the young master to study and work today."Sebastian intercepted with an apologetic face, the surprise of his sudden appearance in front of the doorway allowing the boyo to get free, adjusting his coat, huffing, walking towards his butler. Mouser picked up the planner and joined them.

"As you can see I'm very busy. If you want to look for that person do it yourself." He walked out at a dignified pace, leaving a pouting prince behind.

* * *

"Now... during our stay in London instead of Governess Addams and the others I will serve as your tutor."Sebastian had donned a pair f glasses, tucking part of his fringe away, a violin and it bow on his hands. The music room was bathed in sunlight. Ten in the morning, right on schedule. The instruments and musical sheets were in place.

The boyo had picked his own violin, looking none too pleased.

"It is very hard to contact all of the tutors and have their answer in time when your duties summon you so abruptly to London." Mouser answered his glare calmly while sifting through the mail. According to Sebastian it wasn't the first time he fulfilled those jobs towards the boyo. Or her. French lessons... shudder.

"Firstly let's practice the second suite of the violin solo." He tapped on the music sheets with the bow.

"Bach's chaconne?" Ciel stated after a quick appraisal. "This piece of music is extremely high level. How can I play..." He was interrupted when Sebastian's bow tilted his chin up, exposing his throat,

"Because it is hard if you can do this you'll gain confidence. That is my method as a tutor. Basically I'm a hard trainer." Mouser shivered in reaction, staring at the paper. "Do you have any problems with my education policy?" Sebastian was smiling, an empty expression of challenge. Mocking. Ciel frowned, using his own bow to shove Sebastian's away slowly and with purpose, glaring. He performed better when riled, wanting to prove the challenger wrong. "Ready? Then prepare the bow."

The boyo started to play with just a bit of hesitation, the tempo slower than stated but still keeping the flow tight and unbroken.

"The important thing for D minor is to express the tune with severity and piety." Sebastian instructed, checking the notations. "That's it. You're doing very well." A bit of formal praise and encouragement as the role he was playing demanded, but also mirroring the progress of the boyo. As he had said it was a complex piece. "Express the tune with intense emotions..."

The demon continued, adjusting the glasses absentmindedly with the violin's bow, ignoring the dissonant sound that suddenly began to whisper. "At the appropriate time use the sound to represent anger."

Mouser looked up from the letters that she had been reading, finding the odd sound distracting, eyes widening as she caught the source.

"Oh bugger..." She whispered.

When the dissonant music grew louder, interrupting the violin's melody. Sebastian turned, eyes narrowed in annoyance. The boyo didn't look pleased either.

"What are you doing?" Sebastian asked coldly staring at Soma who played a sitar and Agni who sat behind him tapping the tabla blissfully, distorting and interrupting the classical piece. The prince smiled and stood.

"Hmm? I just think it would be good to spend some time with Ciel today." He smiled, as if proud of his idea, starting his bragging. "I am also talented when it comes to musical instruments."

"Get out." Ciel growled, shoving the Indian's out, whipping the violin bow.

* * *

"Look for the balance and calmly bring out the depth." Sebastian instructed after placing the items in the most aesthetically pleasing positions, adjusting the light. The scheduled eleven A.M. art class should proceed as planned. The Young Master frowned in concentration, holding the charcoal firmly.

"What? Drawing a bottle is boring isn't it?" Soma piped in, sitting behind him. "Drawing a picture is better with a naked woman right?" He concluded, looking at Meyrin, pointing regally. "So woman! Undress."

Meyrin shrieked, startled, when she heard Soma's order, almost dropping the tray she had brought the items to be drawn in.

"May I help?" Lau volunteered.

"I will only undress in front of the man I love!" The maid said, gripping her clothes, running away, hiding behind Mouser who stood at the doorway, returning from the study to check progress, blinking surprised at the sudden development in the day's events and the maid that shivered behind her, hugging her waist tightly. Sebastian sighed. The boyo was close to exploding in a rage.

"Well... excuse me while I go hide out in a closet for the next hour or so..." She said, smiling, prying Meyrin free, retreating, dragging the maid with her.

"Get out!" Ciel shouted pushing Soma and Agni out of the room again.

* * *

"The samples of the limited Christmas goods from the Yorkshire factory have arrived." Mouser took over after lunch, showing the toys to the boyo after placing them in the game's room. Plush toys, doll houses, wooden trains, wooden animals and soldiers. The boyo went for the Peter Rabbit, picking it up in a hug. It was one of the highest demand toys.

"Hmm... it feels good now that they remade it." He considered, giving it to Mouser. She snuggled the plush white creature in a waistcoat and bowtie, black nails caressing its ears slowly.

"It really does." She murmured as the Boyo checked another item.

"You seem happy." Ciel smirked, staring for a moment at his secretary. Mouser just smiled with gentle looking eyes, keeping the Peter Rabbit pressed against her chest with one arm, flipping the page on the notepad, checking the next item of business.

"Next... the production plan for next year has arrived from headquarters." She tilted her head towards the stacks placed on the hexagonal card table. "But those can wait for a bit as you should focus on the Christmas sales. It seems new products like the Christmas cracker are having favourable sales at the Herriot department store." She mentioned too, checking the sales table and projections.

"Though since our kid costumers are the majority we need to keep producing new toys."The boyo stated, testing one of the crackers with a loud pop, sparkles and streamers brightening the air before falling down gently. Mouser took a few notes on the side.

"I almost loathe to suggest this after what we went through but... why not increase a bit on the doll production? New hair and eye colours, new dresses..." Girls liked dolls far as she knew.

"Collectables do have some appeal. But new is also needed from time to time." The boyo continued. Mouser wrote down the small list of needs to put the plan in motion.

"That's it." Soma shouted loudly, barging in with Agni carrying some papers and Lau tailing along to watch more of the daily drama. Mouser gripped the bunny a bit harder, biting her lip with a chuckle. "I have a thought of a business plan for you. Look at this!" The childish doodle of an elephant. "The doll is the image of the Indian god Ganesh. But get this... somehow..." Agni changed the paper. "The nose moves!" and they waited for the answer with happy smiles.

"Get OUT!" The boyo shouted, repeating the day's favoured action, slamming the door loudly after they were on the corridor.

* * *

"Humph... what time will you finish?" Soma complained, dragging the words, lounging on the colourful carpet, watching the fencing lesson, clearly bored. "And just what the hell are you doing?"

"Shut up! I can't concentrate!" Ciel shouted, stopping, turning his back on Sebastian, stomping his feet.

Mouser looked up from her book, sitting on the chaise longue near the guests. It was nearing tea time and barring any sort of crisis she had the formal work dealt for the day.

"Eh? No need to get mad." Soma pouted innocently. The boyo would have none of that.

"I get it." He growled swiping the fencing foil from Sebastian's hand. "If you want my attention that bad then be my opponent." The boyo challenged, tossing the foil.

Soma was fast enough to catch it, staring at the practice weapon for a moment, playing with it. Mouser marked the page, closing the book. From what she had learned about that sport his grip was wrong. From what she knew about actual combat he was holding it like one would hold a slashing weapon.

"Have it you way." Soma said, walking towards the centre of the ballroom, swishing the weapon, proudly, displaying a bit of skill even though it was wrong for what he was holding. "I have only studied martial arts like kalaripayattu and silambam though..." He adopted a combative posture. Agni smiled, encouraging him gently. "So if I beat you... you will play with me?"

"Only if you win." The boyo had a frown of focus plastered on his face. "If you lose then you must stay quiet and keep out of my way." Ciel stated the prize calmly, glancing at Sebastian who sighed and explained.

"Five bouts in three minutes. The one with the highest score wins." The opponents walked to their positions. "Now begin."

"Take this!" Soma attacked almost immediately, aiming for the legs with a horizontal slashing movement. The boyo didn't bother to move, letting the foil strike against his leg, bending under the speed and movement.

"That is not a valid point in fencing. Too bad." Ciel stated smugly, moving swiftly forward, using the opening to thrust. Soma was actually quick enough to dodge, a slightly panicked expression crossing his features.

"What the hell are valid points? You coward. I don't even know the rules." Soma was shouting angrily but was still managing to dodge.

"It's your fault you don't know the rules. A match is a match." And the boyo was having fun. Mouser chuckled. Sebastian had taken a place near the armrest against which she leaned, watching the fight with a slight amused smile.

"You bastard." Soma growled, annoyed. "This sword is hard to use when you swing left and right." He complained, waving the fencing foil around, stopping his attacks for a moment.

"Thrusting forward is the basic idea of fencing. Not to scythe the sword horizontally." Ciel stated calmly, blocking another attack before moving in for a strike. But in an actual fight he lacked flexibility, sticking to the balanced practice moves and unmoving while Soma floundered and tried to strike, each hit non-valid. In a real fight she counted nine wounds so far and two of them potentially lethal or at least very crippling. Soma was yet to be hit. "Your torso is wide open."

"Prince this is dangerous!" Agni moved suddenly, throwing himself in the boyo's path, his fingers jabbing his Ciel's arm sharply, making it go limp, the foil clattering on the tiles, the boyo's face surprised and slightly pained. "Sir Ciel!" Agni noticed what he had done suddenly, looking flustered, trying to apologise frantically. Sebastian approached slowly with Mouser on tow. "My deepest apologies! My body moved on its own when I thought the prince was going to lose..."

"Are you all right?" Sebastian asked, placing one knee on the floor, lowering himself to the boyo's level. Mouser watched his movements, before helping, kneeling next to the boyo, rubbing his arm gently, trying to chase away the numbness, cooing to annoy him further.

"Agni you have protected me well." Soma laughed despite Agni's panicked look. "I praise you." The prince turned to Ciel smugly. "Agni is my khansama. He's all mine. In other words I won."

"That's..." The boyo began, annoyed, struggling to lunge. Mouser held him back by the numb arm, smiling slightly.

"Now you have to play with me." Soma demanded as Lau picked up the fallen foil, balancing it on his palm.

"My, my... here you should take reprisal for your master, butler." The Chinese advised tossing the training blade. Sebastian caught it flawlessly with his left, inverting it, placing the tip on the tiles, keeping a loose grip on the pommel, looking down at the boyo, sighing.

"What are you going to do, Ciel's khansama?" Soma asked, excited by the prospect of a fight.

"Indeed this happened because you were being mean to a novice who didn't know the rules." Sebastian began softly, still glancing down, closer to a glare. Mouser said nothing, adjusting so she was not on the line of scolding. "However... when the master is injured like this... a butler of the Phantomhive family can't ignore it." He stood, whipping the foil into a combat stance. Mouser helped the boyo up. "Moreover we're behind the planned schedule by ten minutes."

"That's your real motive isn't it?" The boyo groaned, annoyed. Mouser chuckled, guiding him to the chaise longue, making him sit, taking the glove away, rolling his sleeve to check his arm. There was going to be a pretty purple bruise there in a few minutes.

"Interesting. This is good. I shall allow this duel." Soma chirped happily, walking towards the sidelines as his butler took his own fighting form. "Agni in the name of the goddess Kali you cannot lose." The prince ordered solemnly.

"Sebastian. This is an order. Silence that brat." Ciel countered, gritting his teeth, blue eye alight in annoyance.

Mouser watched both men with an interested gaze, still working on the boyo's arm, feeling the blood flesh and bone underneath her fingers, answering to her careful touch. Ciel's fingers twitched when she pinched him, the feeling and reaction returning.

"Jo ajna." Agni said deeply, a calm focused look on his face, ready.

"Yes my Lord." Sebastian said slowly, smirking slightly.


	16. Chapter 16

(So terribly sorry to be late…)

* * *

Battle of the butlers.

Mouser leaned back, the tip of her tongue playing against the sharp edge of her teeth, eyes narrowed, roaming over their forms, trying to pinpoint any flaw in Agni that could be used. Both lord-lings seemed confident in their servant's abilities. Soma was smiling openly. Ciel had his smug sneer plastered on his lips despite flinching from time to time as she worked on his bruised arm.

Sebastian was smirking slightly in a sharp contrast with Agni's frown.

"Now then. Please go kindly on me." The demon stated politely, adjusting the stance, arm raised, body sideways, fencing foil tilted forward.

Agni attacked first, barefoot, getting a better grip on the polished floor, thrusting forward, the movement made to increase the hit's strength.

Sebastian dodged to the right, riposting swiftly, even before Agni had time to recuperate.

Their strikes were fast, short and precise, dodged by either at the last moment in an almost impossible accuracy feat, their expressions cold and unchanging, the movements fluid and sharp. The foils were aimed towards each other's foreheads, both tilting backwards, avoiding the blow entirely, gracefully.

Mouser allowed a low whistle out, impressed. Just keeping up with Sebastian was hard enough. Being able to strike back in the pace he was setting was something else. The boyo's grin had disappeared entirely, morphed into a frown. Lau nodded along, interested. Soma did not seem to consider the actions strange, just looking with puerile enthusiasm.

They stepped back, stopping for a moment before thrusting forward once more, the covered tips of the foils connecting with a small clack, the metal bending harshly as they both applied pressure. With a clatter they snapped, both pieces of broken metal twirling upwards, much to the onlookers shock.

"Oh my... the foil broke." Sebastian said chuckling, catching the foil's shard, looking at it with a smile, his eyes narrowing subtly.

"This means that it will be impossible to compete anymore." Lau said, clapping slowly. "So this match ends as a draw. What a pity." He continued, shrugging slightly.

"Ciel's khansama is also pretty strong." Soma praised after a chuckle. "Agni is the strongest fighter in my city. This is the first time someone fought him to a draw. I'm impressed." He stopped, taking a deep breath and adopting princely posture, talking to Sebastian. "Seeing you are so skilled we shall stop for today."

"It is my honour." Sebastian bowed formally.

"Mr Sebastian thank you for exchanging blows with me." Agni approached, smiling, clapping his hands together, bowing quickly, eyes closed.

"I feel the same way. Mr. Agni really is a fast learner." Sebastian praised as Ciel approached slowly, his face still set in a frown. "I can't say the results would be the same if you were not a novice." The demon continued, as Agni gestured embarrassed.

"No, that's not the case." The Indian stated before pausing, glancing down, turning towards the boyo. "Sir Ciel I am sorry for what I've done." Agni apologised in earnest. "Does it still hurt?"

"No it doesn't." Ciel stated dryly, staring at the man up and down, carefully,

"That's good." Agni smiled, relieved, bowing once more, rejoining his prince who gabbed happily with Lau, recounting his khansama's accomplishments.

"Sebastian." Ciel called carefully, trying not to be overheard. Mouser approached too, slowly, adjusting her sleeves over the daggers. "That guy... what exactly is he? Don't tell me he's... _that kind_ again."

Grim Reaper... According to their stories Grell had been one of the few so far that had come close to battling Sebastian in semi-even ground.

"No. He is human." The demon confirmed, smiling, amused by the supposition.

"Really." Ciel sighed, bored before letting out startled shout when Soma grabbed him into a choking hug, almost lifting him up from the tiles.

"Hey Ciel we should compete again!" He announced happily.

"What?" Ciel grunted out, dragged away.

"I won't lose this time." Soma continued, ignoring the mood.

"How many times must I tell you that I am busy?" Ciel shouted, struggling.

"Is he?" Mouser continued the conversation, arms crossed.

"Yes. However he possesses abilities that we do not naturally have." Sebastian smiled, tilting his head towards Mouser. She huffed, glancing at the struggling boyo. "That's what I presume."

"Power." She mused, mirroring a tone from not so long ago, suspicious.

"Indeed." Sebastian acquiesced.

* * *

Bard gathered the cooking tools eagerly, holding the skillet as if it was a sword, balancing it against his shoulder, smiling. Mouser watched, tilted on the bench, smoking, boots propped on the table, peeling the onions slowly, tossing the pearly white globes into a bowl as soon as their skin was removed. The boyo should be doing his homework and it was time to start dinner preparations if any semblance of the afternoon schedule was to be maintained. Soma was napping and Lau was gone for the moment.

"All right! I can't lose to that guy from India so I shall display my wonderful skills today." Bard announced boisterously.

"There is no need for that." Sebastian walked by, having removed the tailcoat and put on an apron to cook stealing the skillet casually. "I'll take care of the preparations. Kindly stay by the side and watch." Still annoyed at the thirty minute delay it seemed, Mouser thought, moving on to the potatoes, tossing the blade into the table, sinking the tip of it in the wood, letting it stand upright, picking a new knife.

"Hey! What the hell is all that about!" Bard shouted. Sebastian stopped, grimacing as the cook gestured, growled and snarled. "Today I was going to prepare my special dish! Are you listening? Are you listening?!

"Really now. Can you please be quiet?" Sebastian sighed, walking by Mouser's side. His gloved hand slid around Mouser's ankle, giving it a little tug. "Feet of the table." He chastised softly. She huffed, rebalancing.

"Mr Sebastian I hope you don't mind the interruption..." Agni opened the door, peeking inside with a smile. "I was just thinking if there is something I can help out with..." He walked fully into the kitchen, glancing around quickly before focusing on Sebastian.

"Mr Agni there is really no need for you to..." Sebastian began conciliatorily, smiling slightly. Mouser allowed a bit of smoke to escape, moving on to the carrots.

"Two pairs of hands are always better than one!" Agni offered again, undaunted. "Feel free to order me around."

Sebastian relented. Mouser stood up, walking towards the sink to wash the knives.

"In that case may I trouble you with the preparations of the berry sauce for tonight's fish dish as well as the cottage pie?" Sebastian asked, seeing a chance to gain some time.

"Sure." Agni smiled, eager.

"The recipe is here." Sebastian opened one of the drawers, picking up a small pile of papers, placing them on the counter. "I wrote it down. We shall substitute the meat for chicken." He added. Indians did not consume pork or beef according to the research he had made, so a butler had to take that into account, seeing who their guests were.

"Thank you for being so thoughtful." Agni bowed a bit, approaching, reading what was written as Bard raged silently, struggling to get the words out. Sebastian curbed his rant once again.

"Bard you'll get in the way. Kindly stay away." He instructed, walking towards the inner section of the kitchen.

"Why are you letting him help out and finding me a nuisance." The cook finally managed to shout.

"You will get in the way." Sebastian said coldly. "Busy, busy." He mumbled in a singsong way, marking the utter disdain for the rant. Mouser smiled, catching the slight disguised glare he threw Agni's way as she began dismembering the chicken.

"Chef? Mr. Chef?" Agni called softly as Bard grumbled, sitting down on a barrel, arms crossed, almost chewing on his cigarette. But the word caught his attention, spawning big bright eyes.

"Me?"

"Of course."

"Chef..." and his eyes grew a bit watery and emotional.

"I'm not familiar with English cuisine. Do you mind helping me out?" Agni asked politely, placing the recipe down, smiling.

"Leave everything to me." Bard volunteered immediately.

"In that case would you help chop the onions?" The bowl was passed and accepted.

"It will be easily done because I am the chef." Bard picked up a knife and pulled his goggles up, shielding his eyes as he enthusiastically began to mince the vegetable.

"You are very reliable." Agni commented, obviously understanding what made Bard work efficiently and without complaint. "You seem skilled in this..." The Indian commented after he placed the potatoes in the pot to boil, preparing the skillet to fry the chicken and all the bases needed for the sauce.

"I have no skill in cooking but the knife work I can do." Mouser smiled, separating the meat, the skin and the bones for the stock and actual pie filling, twirling the knife, plunging it into the cutting board as she was done, walking towards the sink to wash her hands.

Agni smiled nodding in understanding, continuing his tasks.

"It smells delicious..." Finny said, peeking from the door that led outside, smiling happily. "What's for dinner today?" he asked, entranced by the scent of the food.

"Young man... you came at the right time." Agni stopped, turning away from the stove. "Are you willing to help out in making dinner?" He proposed, smiling kindly.

"Me? Uh but I'm too strong so Mr. Sebastian forbade me from touching anything in the kitchen." Finny looked a bit crestfallen, fidgeting, glancing around.

"It's good that you are very strong." Agni praised without malice, holding the pot with the potatoes, getting them out of the boiling water into a bowl. "In that case please use this spoon to smash the potatoes before sieving them. "This job is extremely taxing in one's strength. Can I count on you to do it?"

"It requires strength? I can do it. I wanna do it. Please allow me to do it." Finny grabbed the spoon enthusiastically, standing in front of the potatoes, starting his job with small giggles.

"Thank you." Agni said, patting his head.

"Sure thing." Finny cheered, continuing.

"Umm... is Sebastian here?" Meyrin asked softly, walking in. Most likely she had finished the cleaning duties for the afternoon and was looking for new instructions.

"No. Mr Sebastian is cooking in the inner kitchen." Agni informed politely.

"Oh. Then I shall set the table." Meyrin decided, happily.

"Use the ones with the blue flowers." Mouser said, staring at the large closet that held the crockery and cutlery. She didn't know their brand or maker but they were beautiful and the set that hadn't been used in front of the guests yet. "Also the new Lorraine book came out. Do you want me to pick it up?"

"Really?" Meyrin was dragging a chair to reach the high places. "Yes. I really want to know what happens next." She chuckled girlishly, muttering to herself as she climbed onto the chair. "The big plates and the salad plates..." as she pulled them out the wood creaked and the maid started to lose her balance.

"Careful!" Agni moved fast, catching Meyrin and the falling plates without a single loss. "Miss maid I hope you aren't hurt." He helped Meyrin stand while still balancing the plates. "The big plates should be rather heavy for a young lady. When taking them down from high places you should do it one at a time for your own safety. It will not be good if you fall and hurt yourself." He admonished without anger or hurries, smiling politely, no traces of annoyance. The maid was blushing softly, caught somewhere in her imagination. Mouser smiled. Sweet, sweet soul.

"Mr. Agni how are things going?" Sebastian walked out of the inner kitchen, cleaning his hands on the apron. "Can you cope?"

"Yes. There shouldn't be any problem." Agni looked up from the table where he was rolling the dough.

"Sebastian! Look at this. I smashed the potatoes that are going into the pie!" Finny presented the bowl proudly, buzzing with excitement,

"I was the one who chopped the onions and now I am preparing the side vegetables." Bard saluted with a knife, smiling proudly.

"I polished and prepared the tableware." Meyrin piped in, fidgeting, glancing at the pile of shining tableware next to her, adjusting the glasses, smiling shyly.

"Thanks to everybody we will be having a really delicious meal tonight." Agni praised once again, allowing everyone to return to their respective tasks.

Mouser almost wasn't able to hide the laugh that bubbled on her throat when she noticed Sebastian's utterly baffled expression as she lit a new cigarette, leaning on the counter, watching the pots boil and the food sizzle on the pans.

"Mr. Sebastian?" Agni asked, noticing the pause.

"It's nothing." He was able to shake his bewilderment. "I'm just amazed how you actually managed to get this lot to be of some help." The butler joined the Indian, starting the preparations on the fish.

"They are good people and work really hard." Agni said calmly, looking around, proud of his accomplishment.

"They are not bad by nature but..." Sebastian knew what he was dealing with. But knowing still wasn't enough to get the best results, especially when they were overeager to comply.

"Everybody is born with a different talent, abilities and propose in life. We are guided in this by the gods. Humans just need to abide by god's will naturally and slowly in order to complete what we have to do." Agni said, clearly imparting what he knew, what he had learned, what he believed in.

"I don't know how to put this but... Mr. Agni you really are a very capable person." Sebastian continued, still glancing around from time to time while working, waiting for disaster to strike.

"That's not true. Before I met the prince I was a hopeless idiot. What I owe him cannot be repaid in this lifetime." Agni took a deep breath, clapping his hands to shake away the flour, his eyes growing a bit distant, nostalgic. "My family were the Brahmans and in the cast system they are the highest, the ones able to serve the gods. Hoverer... I saw my father's greed and desires and lack of faith. I took advantage of my social status, committed sins... they kept pilling up. And finally the day where I had to pay for my crimes came." Mouser knew the sudden face he made. The criminal that had been caught and resigned himself to their fate. "I had no lingering affection for the world. No attachments. No faith. And in front of me who had decide to throw everything away a god appeared... He allowed me to understand that god existed inside of him. I saw god emitting holy light inside of the prince."

Mouser smirked, making a ring. After being arrested and underfed most people did get a bit unsteady. Hallucinations and flights of fancy were not unheard of.

"Mr. Agni the pot is boiling." Sebastian also seemed to be ignoring the pious devotion the man was dramatizing, continuing with the dinner preparations.

"I've served the prince ever since that day." Agni concluded his tale, helping out once more, stirring the vegetables. "The prince is my king and my god. Even if it costs me my life I will do anything to protect the prince who gave me a new lease of life. I hope to help in fulfilling his wishes in any way I can." The Indian smiled proudly.

"Eh. But gods in reality are all useless in a sense." Sebastian grumbled in an aside, peeking the bubbling stock. Mouser sniggered. He should know, shouldn't he?

"Did you say something?" Agni asked happily.

"No, nothing."Sebastian sidestepped easily, covering the pot once more with a mild smile in place. Agni had returned to his chores. Mouser walked by Sebastian, sliding her hand down his spine firmly, feeling some traces of his territoriality towards the butler's job and puzzled distrust towards Agni's efficiency, before leaving.

* * *

"So who is this woman you are looking for?" The boyo asked as the second dish was placed on the table. Lau has made himself a guest once more.

"She was my servant ever since I was born. You can say she was a nanny." Soma began, picking up where he had interrupted his explanations that morning. "We have been together for as long as I can remember. My father has no interest in me and my mother only strives to attract my father's attention. I was always left on my own while in the palace." There a sad expression on Agni's face as he stood calmly behind the prince, ready to serve. Mouser's eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion. "But Meena was always by my side. She's cheerful and pretty and taught me about a lot of things, like she was my older sister. I don't feel lonely as long as Meena is with me." Soma had a small nostalgic smile as he described the woman. Then the seriousness returned. "I love Meena and Meena loves me. However that man... after the arrival of the British nobles... they took Meena with them."

"What exactly happened?" Lau asked, encouraging him to elaborate.

"The ruler of India, Queen Victoria recognizes that Bengal is a political autonomy. But in fact more than half of political matters are decided by political consultants sent by England. In reality we are just like any other English-Ruled colony." So he was more aware of his countries' situation that the goofy act and youth let on. "Around three months ago that man came to pay a visit as a consultant. He showed interest in Meena... he took advantage of my absence and shipped Meena to England."

Shipped... Mouser frowned. So there should be official documents to learn the woman's location... Or if it was just interest and the attraction had already waned they should check the Ratcliffe Highway. It was not a fate Agni would want to show the prince though.

"In other words he brought her back to England." Ciel said calmly, leaning on the table, thoughtful.

"Correct. And I'm definitely going to bring her back to our country with me." Soma stated determined.

"You are just making a big fuss over a simple female servant." The boyo said in a deadened tone.

Soma stood up, enraged, slamming his palms on the table.

"This is not just a minor matter. The palace is just an empty box without Meena." He shouted, walking towards Ciel, hoisting him up by the shoulders, shaking him. "Do you know the despair I felt when forced to separate from Meena? I never felt so..."

"I don't." The boyo said calmly, unaffected.

"Wha..." That stopped Soma.

"The meagre feelings that arise from that degree of matter I cannot and do not wish to comprehend." He shook Soma's hands away, coldly. "There are some things that you can never get back no matter how much effort you put in. And there are some feelings of despair you can never ever shake off." He clenched his hands, turning his back on the prince, walking away. "You're probably unable to comprehend." He finished touching the doorknob.

"But even if that is the case I still do not wish to be alone in that palace."Soma finished as Ciel closed the door quietly behind him.

Mouser walked out, going around the corridor, meeting the boyo as he stared into the darkness, clearly caught on his own. She placed her hands on her waist, tilting towards him, poking his nose.

"Are you going to say something?" He asked dourly, moving her hand away.

"Why would I?" Mouser answered, smiling.

* * *

"Ain't you a sight for sore eyes." Smiling Jack stood, hugging her in front of the crowd. She chuckled, hugging back, receiving a lot of harsh pats on the back and head from her former gang. Some of the onlookers just stared in shock, and recognition, at her clothes and at the fact that, after she removed the cape, sitting in front of Jack, feminine curves were very apparent. Nor they failed to notice the amount of weapons strapped to her person. "Little Mouser back to the hunt?"

"I need to track someone down and I just have a name and a very vague date..." Mouser sighed, accepting the rum, downing it easily. Cheap, tasteless and burning. Apparently even when drinking Sebastian was spoiling her. The rum he supplied was dark and slightly sweet, high quality stuff. Sadly she nowadays needed at least four bottles before her system even got a smidge inebriated. "Meena. An Indian woman. She should have been brought to London in the last three months. By a noble apparently if it's any help in narrowing it down."

Tobias meowed, rubbing against her ankles, tail twisting before jumping onto the table, presenting a dead rat, placing the mauled body on the wooden surface, looking proud. Mouser chuckled and rubbed under his bloodied chin. He took it as an invitation and hopped onto her lap, curling, demanding caresses. She obliged, petting the big cat lovingly.

"Investigatin' the hangin' incidents eh?" Jack murmured grimly. It brought the pressure of the coppers to the East end and docks and no one was happy about it. "Bloody cat…" He tossed the rat on the floor. Tobias hissed, displeased. Mouser just hugged him, rubbing his furry cheek against hers, purring. The cat calmed down, returning to his regal demands of cuddles.

"That's the Watchdog's task." Mouser toyed with the short rough glass cup with the hand that was not busy on the furry creature purring on her lap. "A pair of fancily dressed Indians has been asking about her too. Spread the word so no one attacks them no matter how much their jewels sparkle. The white haired bloke is too strong."

"Ya know how these chaps are..."

"Yes. But I thought I'd spare you a few deaths or doing porridge." Mouser smiled, refilling their cups, toasting, gulping it down.

"Ah. I'll send one of the boys if I find anything."

"Thanks Jack." It would cost her but they deserved some of her perks too.

* * *

"Indian doxies or Indian wives?" Charlotte stopped her preparations to the opera for a moment, waving her maid away. The young girl smiled and skipped on the way out. The courtesan's green gown was fluid and eye-catching. She was on the prowl that night, preparing for display at the Opera House, as some of her idiots tended to feel guilty and break liaisons when the holiday season began. Mouser nodded, sitting on the brocade armchair, near the window, booted feet bobbing up and down in the air. "There are a lot of harlots in the brothels... I know there is also a good number of them being kept as mistresses... now wives... there are very few."

"Can you name them?"

"I can have a list for you tomorrow afternoon." Charlotte said, smirking, fluffing her hair, glancing at the mirror, applying the jewelled accessories with the precision of the military. "Now... do you want to come with the opera with me? I have this red dress that would be perfect..."

"I'd rather jump in the Thames..." Mouser grumbled, standing. "Thank you for your help and I will go shopping with you as previously agreed."

"And wear a dress."

"We'll see."

* * *

The events that were being held were more than enough to keep the streets busy, allowing Mouser to be ignored and overlooked by passersby. The Yard building in Whitehall might be well guarded but it was not the first time she did that kind of quick burgle job.

Ice made the slanted rooftops slick and treacherous but it had been her choice of entry. It was rather easy now. She chose a window, dropping down, balancing on her tiptoes on the narrow windowsill, using a penknife to unlatch the simple bolt, slipping inside, closing it again, looking around carefully. A distant thud of boots, screams of the imprisoned on the lower levels, faint words, coming from the guards and officials, the patrols moving around as steadily as the Big Ben's hands…

Easy.

Lord Randall really should know better than to keep information form the boyo. One of his servants was bound to come and retrieve what was needed without his old lordship's authorization.

The archive was vast and some parts of it were sketchy and disorganized. Through the dark she looked for the documents, touching the files lightly, picking the folders that interested the boyo. Arrested Indians, list of victims, suspects and commotions. Reports of sights and suppositions… Not one carried the crest of the Spider. Not like before when the old man's grubby fingers were everywhere. Ever since his death actually the Spider's presence on the street power game was rather faint. Usually Sebastian supplied the information but surely… Mouser shrugged, closing the drawers and locating another window. That was what was needed for now.

As the clock began to chime the patrol closed in.


	17. Chapter 17

"None of the Indians that attacked us were responsible. Muggers." Mouser read from the Scotland Yards' purloined report sitting cross legged next to Sebastian on the counter as he ironed the paper carefully and slowly. "That was to be expected. A large group would be immediately reported in those fancy zones..." The next pages, after the frightened words of the interrogated Indians, contained self praise, speculation and little more. "I should have something about Meena this afternoon with some luck." Sebastian stopped moving for a moment, holding the page open. Mouser peeked. "Ah. That is going to sour some moods."

"What can be put on hold in today's schedule?" The demon asked, placing the iron on its stand as he finished, refolding the paper into its proper position.

"Almost everything seeing you are doing the tutors' job..." Mouser sighed, leaning forth before hopping off the perch. "Can't help to think we should have kept a closer eye on those two instead of chasing the bird."

"Perhaps." Sebastian said calmly, preparing the tea cart methodically, walking with her through the corridors after everything was in place, stretching the silence for a while, pinpointing the whereabouts of servants and guests. "And the unavoidable duties are..."

"A meeting at Harrods' in the afternoon and the planning of the charity event." Mouser frowned as they stopped in front of the boyo's room. "Although we could... ignore the charity for now. It's for January and as scarily competent as you are..." She smiled, shrugging.

"We will adjust, depending on the Young Master's wishes." Sebastian voice sounded resigned as he knocked, pushing the door. "Excuse me... Oh. It's rare to see you awake so early." Mouser slipped in after that, opening the curtains, letting the dim winter light in, noticing that more snow had been piled on the outside and Finny struggled to get the stone pathways clean.

"I was feeling irritated so I had trouble sleeping." The boyo complained, leaning against the pillows, arms crossed. "It seems those two stayed out all night. What exactly are they doing all night..." The boyo huffed before opening the Times that displayed proudly the news of another attack, frowning intently as Sebastian prepared the Keemun Xin Ya black tea.

* * *

"So... heh. To be honest those two were suspicious from the get go." Lau stated after the boyo had relayed the new information to the Chinese. The household was mostly quiet and the breakfast preparations underway. The guests were stirring. They had perhaps ten minutes before they came down.

"That is true though... each day a new of these..." He complained giving a quick appraisal to the letters and invitations Mouser brought in, giving them to her again after opening them, barely glancing at the text, for further appraisal, uninterested in social events. "I just can't see why those two would cause trouble."

"A grudge against colonial rule?" Lau suggested, reclining, hands hidden within his sleeves, seemingly uncaring, just adding to the conversation.

"Doesn't seem likely. Even if they do have a problem with the Anglo-Indians returning to England, attacking them in such a fashion is just too risky. Most of all if they were the criminals why would they come to stay with me of all people? They really aren't that suspicious at all. Right?" The Earl considered, thoughtfully, the words slow, frown still in place.

"Well then... it would be pretty good if it was night anytime soon, don't you think?" Lau chuckled merrily, still reclining.

* * *

"Sebastian..." Mouser entered the kitchen, calling his name softly, looking around to make sure they were alone, as Sebastian placed the finishing touches on the cake's sweet decoration. She walked over to him slipping a finger over the edge of the cream bowl where the thick sweet custard gathered, licking the tip with a sigh, leaning against the table, eying the treat. They had just returned from the meeting at Harrods' and the boyo was currently dodging Soma's playing requests. "My friend found the tart..."

"Is it relevant?" He asked, putting down the utensils as she sneaked a few more dollops from the bowl, making small sounds of contented bliss.

"Might be... Take a look." She produced a small list from the trouser's pockets, caressing the silver lighter in the process.

"Interesting." Sebastian smirked as he reached the names that mattered.

"Too many connections to be left alone innit?" Mouser said with a chuckle.

* * *

Following the Prince and Agni was uneventful. They seemed to truly be searching for their missing nanny, walking around in circles, entering the crowded places whose warmth drew people in, away from the bitter cold. Pubs, clubs, bars. Agni was making sure not to let his charge drift anywhere near the hells or brothels.

"In this country the best place to look for that person would be a pub of a club." The boyo muttered, bundled in his winter cloak, peeking over the corner as the pair moved on. "It really seems like they aren't up to anything."

"They are looking at the wrong places. That would work for a man." Mouser mentioned. "To find a vulnerable woman in this country they should have gone to a brothel first. And pray to their gods she isn't too damaged or hasn't been killed already."

"It is now 1 AM." Sebastian consulted the pocket watch calmly, watching the pair disappear, rounding another corner. "I predict they will return home soon. We should go home also."

* * *

"2.45 AM. As expected he is moving." Sebastian said crouching on the edge of the roof, the bitter wind and snow making the tails flutter like dark banners. Mouser stood a bit behind him, looking down at the skulking Indian and his snowy footprints, enduring the cold, trying to overcome the feel of it. They had been there for a while, waiting.

"Do you want me to follow?" The thief asked. It would take a few moments for the other pursuers to get ready. It just seemed like a reasonable precaution.

"Do not lose him." Sebastian advised.

* * *

"So... he went inside this building." Lau, The boyo, Sebastian and Soma gathered against the high wall of the city manor, looking up. The Chinese mentioned the location casually as they approached.

"Indeed." Mouser jumped down the high wall where she had been perched marking the weakest point of the Manor's vigilance, standing next to the group, looking around quickly, searching for the bright beacon of the patrol. Noticing nothing she continued in hushed tones. "He entered and the master of the household was warned. He was told to wait."

"Maybe finally we can see what is going on." The boyo whispered, his eye narrowed.

"What's going on? Who lives here?" Soma asked, forgetting his voice. Lau smiled, placing his hand on the Prince's shoulder carefully, hushing him.

"Settle down prince. No need to panic. If you go in you shall see... the horrible truth... and... ah..." It began at a dramatic tone and pace, degenerating suddenly to a sleepy, hesitant look.

"In saying that you mean you have no clue about what is going on." The boyo caught on that time.

"Yes. So who lives here?" Not a hint of shame from the Chinese.

"This is the home of Harold West Jebb. He is involved in the import of various goods. I've only met him once. Nothing more than a detestable rogue." Ciel was the one to fill in the blanks. Everything in his tone made clear the distaste for the man.

"Petty bullying of competition." Mouser shrugged smiling. Not part of her world but one hirer of brutes.

"Imported goods? So we are in the same line of business." Lau perked up, joining in.

"Why would Agni visit such a person?" Soma looked towards the building, confused.

"He mostly imports spices and teas from India. He runs a general store called Harold trading. He also runs Harold Hindustani Coffeehouse. Meena's name appeared on some of Lord West's documents." Mouser smirked, exchanging a glance with Sebastian as he spoke. "According to what I read business mostly took place over the Bengal area. The hanging incidents may have hurt his business. However... it seems such damage was avoided due to Lord West being absent while the events took place."

"I guess we'd better go in." The boyo said, looking up.

"If it's your wish." Sebastian didn't sound particularly eager.

Mouser moved away, towards the same entrance she had used to sneak in the first time.

* * *

"Hmmm... Gentlemen... you are the worse thieves I have ever seen." Mouser said softly, in a soft breath, barely over a whisper, as they reached the first floor, the Lord's study, twirling a rather big and gaudy, but unmistakably valuable, gold, ruby and diamond pilfered necklace, watching it flicker in the dim light that shadowed the corridor coming from the semi-opened door. She was holding a jewellery box in one palm.

"You did a good job." The cultured British accent was coming from the office smoothly, clear. "Why give me that expressionless face? Take a cigar and loosen up a bit." A chuckle and the sound of a wooden box opening, followed by silence. The tension underlying it was unnoticed by the speaker. "They are grade Havana cigars. I got these babies from James Fox. He has a Royal Warrant. Oh well... your loss." The box was closed and the unmistakable sound of a lighter clicked on the air. "Everything is going according to plan. In one week it all will be decided. Only with this Right Hand of God will I realize my dream. I've been planning this for three years." Gloating and moving around. Mouser glanced at the four men that were peeking into the room, closing a golden filigree bracelet over her wrist, sitting down, placing the box on the thickly carpeted floor.

"So I will compete and if I help you accomplish this Meena will..." He sounded torn, hurt, desperate. Mouser frowned. She had no room for more earrings, especially those heavily bejewelled and droopy ones... So into the pockets they went. At the name every one of the males snapped into attention. Soma however broke away from the stealth effort, pushing the door wide open, barging into the room.

"You said Meena?" he shouted.

"You fool!" The boyo hissed, almost prepared to follow, held back by the butler, his mouth covered before he could continue insulting the naive newcomer.

"Shhh. He would recognize our faces. Let's just wait for now."

Mouser slid some rings over her gloved fingers methodically emptying the jewel box while humming inside her head as the drama unfolded in the office. As soon as she was done she shifted her position peeking.

"Prince" Agni whispered in a choked tone, both men surprised.

"Agni what's going on? You know where Meena is?" Soma demanded, gripping Agni's lapel, shaking him lightly, lacking a bit in strength.

"Ah. So this is you master Agni?" West mocked, examining the prince.

"You... you're the one who took Meena!" Recognition shone suddenly in his eyes. Soma let go of Agni, turning aggressively towards West, taking a deep breath, pointing harshly, growling. "Agni beat this guy!" There was a deeply silent pause, his order unanswered. "Agni what are you waiting for?"

Smirking as he watched the play of emotions in front of him West leaned against the settee.

"Agni throw out this fussy prince." He ordered, voice velvety smooth. Soma's face was a study of shock. Agni was still looking darkly conflicted. "Can't you hear me?" West prodded further.

"It seems they are starting to argue..." Sebastian mentioned, letting go of the boyo, watching the study. "But back what we were talking about it seems Lord West is involved. It also seems this has something to do with the black market."

"So this really is the Earl's jurisdiction." Lau whispered.

"Indeed. Reporting this to the Yard could be problematic." The boyo whispered, examining the scene. "We should just go home now... but I want to watch West a while longer. This time I will save that troublesome prince."

"Leverage boyo?" Mouser whispered tilting her head a bit, whispering near his ear. He frowned at the amount of new jewels peppering her outfit.

"But won't he recognize you?" Lau asked.

"Yes." Ciel admitted, moving a bit, trying to stand.

"Then leave it to me. I have a good idea." Sebastian placed a hand on the boyo's shoulder, moving.

"Agni what is the meaning of this? Explain at once." Soma was demanding, having found his voice.

"I don't want to say anything. Please leave this place." Agni pleaded, looking away, trembling.

"What did you say?" The prince was confused.

"Good kid." West said through the cigar smoke.

"You! What have you done?" Soma's attention turned sharply towards the man he perceived as the enemy, grabbing him by the jacket, shouting, shaking the nobleman.

"Please just stop." Agni grabbed his prince, dragging him away.

"Let go of me Agni." Soma was struggling, distraught, confused. "Why are you doing what this jerk says?"

"Darn. You put a crease in my new Gieves and Hawks suit." West groaned, his hands sliding over the expensive fabric, looking down at the prince who struggled against his khansama's grip. "Why show your pain to someone who will not understand…" West said thoughtfully, before smirking once more. "Agni. Beat the voice out of this prince." Agni's arms went lip with shock, letting Soma go, staring at the man in disbelief. "What's wrong? I'm not asking you to kill him. I just want him to shut up. Am I not kind?"

"Agni..." Soma whispered, the conflicted look in Agni's eyes... Mouser shivered suddenly when Sebastian moved past the small group at the door as Agni's hand was poised to strike. He was stopped by a masked Sebastian, everything in the room brought to an abrupt, shocked stop.

"Who the heck is that?" West shouted, badly frightened by the deer head the Demon was using to shield his identity.

"I am a deer sent to collect the prince." Sebastian said politely, turning to the badly startled man. Mouser covered her mouth with glittering fingers at that phrase.

"Using a stuffed head of a deer. Good one Mr. Butler." Lau commented.

"How is it good?" Ciel grumbled, rubbing his throbbing temples.

"Hides the face." Mouser whispered.

"This is probably one of the spies!" West was backing away, pointing. "Agni!"

"No I am just one hell of a deer." Sebastian continued in a puzzled tone.

"Destroy him!" The house lord demanded, dragging Agni, forcing him to stand in front of him, to defend him.

"Destroy... but I can't..." The Indian stammered, obviously seeing past the flimsy disguise.

"Shut up! Do you want me to take back my promise? I order you to do this."

"I... I..." Leverage at work there.

"Do it now!"

"My god... I only wanted o serve him." Agni's conflict reached a breaking point, bloody tears sliding from his eyes. "This right hand I use only for your sake... I've chosen this sin... betrayal..." he whispered, covering his bandaged hand, standing, preparing, a faint glow erupting from him. Mouser's eyes widened as his soul burned suddenly brighter, looking away uncomfortable, one fang cutting her lower lip.

"Agni..."

"Please forgive me..." He shouted, attacking, fast, strong, devastating. Sebastian moved, grabbing Soma, dodging the attack without hesitation, leaving the man in the middle of a wreckage. Mouser sighed, looking away. Time to go she thought, tossing the jewel box into the wrecked office, using the fight and the mess it was creating, standing up while West shouted.

"Not the chest I got at General Trading! My one of a kind Tiffany lamp! My Wooster tableware! My top hat!"

"It seems things are getting a bit wild. We should leave earl." Lau suggested, sharing the same thought as the thief, used to such a ruckus, picking up the boyo.

"This way please." Mouser moved, guiding them. "It's a bit faster."

"My Thomas Good glasses! My Maissan cups! My custom made desk! My house..."It was the last whisper she hear as the sound of shattering glass echoed, closing the window discreetly behind them, going back to the town house.

* * *

"It was incredible. He was beyond human." Lau commented excitedly as Sebastian served tea, a soothing Silver Tips Ceylon white tea. Soma was brooding and the boyo seemed to have forgotten his sleepiness, plotting. Mouser was allowed to sit down a bit away from the men, playing with her newly acquired jewels, separating them by colour, shine, value, desire and utility.

"It's called Samadhi. Anyone with it has that power." Soma said, his voice barely containing the shards of his anger. What had happened had shaken his confidence badly.

"Samadhi?" Ciel asked, tasting the word, picking the tea cup carefully.

"It has to do with their religion." Sebastian began to talk, thoughtfully "It is like entering some kind of trance isn't it?" There was slight imperceptible sigh in his voice before he continued. "Humans are strange creatures. Their blind belief, that they call a strong faith, can bring forth enormous strength from within. The Vikings of the past called upon Odin. The Holy Knights and the Crusaders fought in the name of Yahweh. For Agni... his belief in his one true god, Soma, allows him to use such a power." Mouser looked up, feeling called. "Something we could never obtain, bred from love and belief. The power of "faith"."

Faith was for the foolish. Power, however, was alluring. And if power was needed, wanted, there was always a way to cheat, to finagle a way around the original purity for a self serving purpose. Mouser smiled, understanding the lesson. Demon matters when he chose to share were at least easier than the damnable French classes.

"Then tell me why did he betray me?" Soma growled suddenly, his hands on the wooden table, fingers twitching. "How could he leave me behind so easily?" The prince shouted suddenly, sweeping the polished surface, the fine porcelain crashing and shattering on the rug, the tea soaking and staining the delicately woven pattern. The boyo and Lau moved, avoiding the worst of the scalding beverage and sharp ceramic as Soma continued his rant. "Why? Why does everything around me vanishes? Why? Why?" The prince sobbed suddenly, standing, dashing away through the darkened corridors.

"Are you all right?" Sebastian asked politely, keeping the silver platter under his arm.

"Yes. We dodged." Lau answered proudly. The boyo just brooded, slightly angered. Sebastian discarded the tray on the cart, looking around, appraising the damage quickly."

"Oh... the Havilland tea set I went to the trouble of picking out for the young master. I guess... I should teach him some manners." Sebastian moved towards Mouser, extending one hand, bowing slightly as if asking her to dance. She looked at him with a slight frown before placing her palm against his, black nails gleaming daintily against the white of his gloves, standing. "One should not neglect their manners." He instructed playfully. Mouser smirked slightly.

* * *

Soma was curled under the covers, like a child, as if the fabric fortress could keep away the harshness of the world. Mouser sat down in one of the chairs, leaning against the table after placing them right way up, crossing her legs. It seemed a small storm had raged through the room. She lit a cigarette, picking up a shattered piece of ceramic to use as an ashtray, watching as Sebastian drew close to the bed, grabbing the covers, a sharp tug, dragging them and the prince to the floor.

The teen grunted as he hit the carped with a dull thud, turning sharply, glaring, clearly unused to be on the receiving end of any kind of harsh treatment.

"You rude..." He began to shout, gathering all shreds of dignity and princely ways, interrupting himself suddenly, shrinking against the floor, buckling quickly in fright when Sebastian glanced coldly at him.

"Who here is rude?" The butler asked in an icy tone. "Tossing things all over as though it's nothing... how troublesome." He mentioned, turning his back, making the bed until the covers were impeccably flat, ignoring the startled youth. Then he turned, standing tall and formal. Mouser noticed the deepening of the shadows around them. The only lights that bathed the room came from the faint moonlight outside, the curtains left open and the slight shimmer of the candelabra Sebastian had left on the corridor. "We are in England at the Phantomhive Manor. Not your palace back at home. I do not have to follow your orders." He stated coldly as the prince stood on shaky legs, staring wide eyed. His status as guest had been revoked by his rudeness so Sebastian as a butler felt no need to hold onto formality and deference. "You are nothing more than a brat. Without Agni you're as powerless as a baby. And he has betrayed you."

"That's right. I have nothing left. I've lost everyone." The prince whispered slowly, close to weeping.

"Lost?" Sebastian allowed himself a quiet chuckle. "My... what a persecution complex you have. You didn't lose them. They simply were never yours in the first place." Soma's expression was one full of fright and confusion as the Demon continued. "Your social status, servants, palace were all given to you by your parents. From the very beginning you have never had one thing that was truly your own. Isn't that the case? You did sense something was going on with Agni. And yet you lacked the courage to find out for yourself. Because you knew this..."

"No..." Soma screamed, running towards the door that had been left slightly ajar, as if promising a way out. It was slammed shut mercilessly before he was able to reach it, a smirking Sebastian leaning over the prince who stepped away, losing his balance, falling to his knees.

"It is true nevertheless." Sebastian said calmly, fuelling the breakdown. "Even now, in this situation, you are playing the hero in a tragedy. You really are just a spoilt brat."

"No... everyone said... everyone was there for me." The Indian whispered, shivering.

"Lip service. Isn't that the duty of a house servant? I believe they looked after you rather than looking back. Back at the slums they lived in before working for you. There is no reason to serve someone for no personal gain." _Amen._ Mouser thought allowing smoke to drift pass her lips again, ash falling. He was very good. It had been quite a while since she'd seen someone being verbally lambasted so thoroughly. "No one ever really loved you."

"That's how it is then..." the boyo said, interrupting, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed.

"Young Master." Sebastian acknowledged his presence, the menacing aspect of his nature fading slightly.

"That's enough." The boyo continued, walking in. "I may have turned out like Soma..." He admitted quietly as the prince stood, shivering, looking around. "If it wasn't for that month..." Mouser's eyes narrowed slightly. Was he being compassionate or just feeling like forcing someone to grow? "I was being kept and humiliated as a pet... my house was burnt, my family killed... I was such a powerless kid." The boyo gritted his teeth, hands fisting. Mouser shrugged, snuffing her cigarette, standing. "Therefore I returned to this place in order to make those people who put me through such a fate taste the same humiliation. Three years prior they killed my predecessor. So they will come to me as long as I am the head of the Phantomhive family. The family that stands in their way. I am waiting for them to come and try to kill me here." The boyo sated, bitterly, proudly.

"Why... why do you have to go so far?" Soma whispered, staring.

"Moping around filled with sadness and sorrow... what will come of it? Dead people can do that." The boyo continued, walking into the room, stepping over the shards that had resulted as Soma's fit. "However I'll live and stand on my own two legs. If we are to die one day, wouldn't it be better to have no regrets? I'm not saying that getting revenge for my predecessor is an admirable thing. This is all just a game of mine. It is a game that can be won by either... them or me as the Earl of Phantomhive." Mouser moved next to Sebastian who watched impassibly. Most likely it was something he had heard time and again. Soma's heartbeat was still loud and frantic because of the fear and sorrow. The boyo's was picking up, riled, exited, determined. "Even though I was put in an abyss of despair, a place likened to hell... a chance as thin as a spider's thread was sent to me, offering a choice to crawl out. I decided not to give up and reached for it. We humans have that strength." The boyo sighed, arms crossing once again, eye closing lazily, in reflection. "Though grasping the thread of not is up to the person. This boring speech is over." He finished as Soma looked on in awe. "Sebastian, Mouser. We need to talk about West. Come." Both demons exchanged a glance before following. Mouser smirked a bit, looking up when she heard the prince's bare feet carry him through the corridor.

"Ciel..." The boyo half turned, waiting. Soma was breathing hard, straining before straightening and continuing. "I'm so embarrassed. I'm already seventeen but I'm still a fool who knows nothing compared to you. I have been spoiled with luxuries... so I have never tried to understand other people. Although I noticed that Agni was worried about something I never bothered to ask... so this time I want to know." A flicker of backbone and determination. So the boyo had indeed pushed him to grow despite Sebastian having almost reduced him to a weeping puddle. "I want to meet them directly and confirm their reasons to leave my side. That's why I ask this of you! Come with me..."

"I refuse." Mouser snorted, covering her mouth to avoid an outright laugh at the prince's shocked face. "I'm sorry I can't even look at someone who knows so little about the world as you do. There is no way I'm dragging your weight around. Meh... I suppose the living room door isn't locked anyway." He turned away.

"Ciel!" Soma shouted suddenly, a hug dragging the boyo against the prince, laughing in gratitude. Ciel just growled and fumed, annoyed. "I... Ciel I'm sorry for lashing out like that before... please forgive me..." The prince then glanced at Sebastian, hiding behind the boyo suddenly. Mouser chuckled into her fist. Sebastian seemed slightly amused by the new wariness his simple presence created. "about those broken cups... please forgive me. And I'm so sorry.

"No... don't worry. This is quite interesting." Sebastian said as the boys walked away. "Such an amusing person..."

"Who?" Mouser whispered, slipping her hand into his pocket, checking the time, tugging the chain.


	18. Chapter 18

Mouser snuggled into the green sofa with the book she was trying to finish. A widow caught in-between revenge and love. Lau had not left the living room, too comfortable in the armchair, smiling calmly as they returned, acting as if very little had happened. Sebastian prepared a new tea, a stronger black, most likely an Earl Grey, placing the cups carefully. The shards of the other tea set had been removed and the carpet taken to the laundry room.

"Well then. Shall we continue this discussion where we were before the prince interrupted?" Lau stated, opening his arms wide, encouraging the talk. The boyo grunted in agreement, plopping down on his own armchair, leaning against his palm, thinking.

"Firstly, isn't it almost certain that those incidents were caused by Agni under West's orders? With his physical ability it is possible he could have done it alone. So far what we have from West's speech is _the three year plan, the completion of his plans in one week_..." Soma flinched away from Sebastian when he placed the cup in front of him. The demon just glanced at him without emotion returning to the boyo's side."_Agni's Right Hand is essential_. Of these the most important is _in one week_."

"Using his Right Hand of God... he might want to strike at a big event." Lau suggested, thinking for a moment. The he shrugged. "The Queen's jubilee is over already... And it's winter. All the large events are over."

"Mouser. What events are taking place in one week?" Ciel asked. Mouser looked up from her book and took a deep breath, thinking. No one had glanced at her, just waiting for her answer.

"Seeing your station you received invitations for everything happening in this town..." She nipped her lip for a moment. "A choir concert organized by the Sophia Choir Institute at Westminster Cathedral, Wagner's Opera at Convent Garden Opera House, a Prospering Exhibition of Indian Culture in the Empire at the Crystal Palace, the World Currency exhibition at the British Museum..."

"Indian" The boyo interjected before she continued enumerating the remaining eight invitations.

"Young Master... reading your own letters thoroughly no matter the content is the way of a gentleman." Sebastian chastised. Mouser smirked, returning to her book. Most nobles didn't even know how much they were worth or had in their possession. It was considered unfashionable. That was why butlers, secretaries and house staff in general knew more about the master's life than the master himself.

"Give it a rest." The boyo grumbled at his butler, waving away the scolding. "Details."

"Next week the Prospering Exhibition of Indian Culture in the Empire at the Crystal Palace has a main program of displaying the achievements and production of the English in India. As part of this event a curry contest is scheduled. You were also invited to be part of the judges... apparently you were also not listening this morning when I asked about this to forward the answers." Mouser continued, flipping the page. Chapter Twenty. In Which Bitterness Descends Upon Our English Rose...

"Several companies competing against each other to see who makes the best curry." Sebastian continued, picking up the idea easily. "There are rumours that the queen loves curry. She might come to the Exhibition..." Which could make her a target. "Other than that would you like me to investigate the other venues?"

"Indian curry. I think it is kind of obvious." The boyo said grumpily, glaring at Sebastian.

"It looks like you also noticed Earl." Lau whispered calmly, in all seriousness.

"Three years. The show... there is only one answer to explain what West, who is obsessed over brand names, is thinking about, right?" The boyo sighed, glancing aside. "I can't believe this has turned out to be such a boring case."

"Ah. So it really was a pointless visit." Lau nodded along in agreement.

"Hold on. I don't understand. Explain it to me..." Soma asked, looking from one to another, confused.

"Calm down prince. From now on we will explain everything in order." Lau was the one to assuage his doubts. For a moment. "Well the Earl will."

"You just pretended you knew again, didn't you?" The boyo deadpanned, not amused by the gimmick. "The Hindustani coffeehouse that West owns has a main meal of curry. In other words West is trying to get a Royal Warrant with curry."

"Royal Warrant what is that?" Soma frowned, trying to understand the cultural difference.

"That's right... the prince has no idea about such things." Lau acknowledged softly, reclining.

"In England we have an interesting system. The Royal Family will give a certificate to stores they are pleased with. That is a Royal Warrant. Those stores can display it on their signboards. It is the same as a guarantee of quality. The stores that receive the warrant will certainly see a growth in sales. I was just only thinking that it is about time they awarded them to stores dealing in confectionaries and also toys." Always with his owns interests in mind. Mouser chuckled. Self-serving. A true businessman. "It seems that some stores have seen their sales grow three times their previous figures. Queen Victoria herself has a particular interest in the popular trends from fashion to cuisine." The boyo sighed, eye closed, the signs of sleepiness showing once more. "The curry boom has also declined recently. He must want the certificate so badly he'll do anything."

"I understand why he wants the certificate. But what does it connect to the incidents?" Soma was twisting his hands together, looking around, a bit lost.

"There are two conditions to getting the Royal Warrant." Sebastian continued, taking over the explanations. "The first one is the quality recognized by the show and the second is that a free service must be delivered to the royal family for three years. In other words he's destroying the competition to assure there is no one able to face him in a week."

"Then those incidents that occurred with soldiers, who have nothing to do with this, were just to make the incidents seem like the work of Indians with a grudge against colonial rule. Maybe Agni was told to take part in this plan at Meena's expense. All for his god." Ciel said calmly, clearing the picture. Soma's expression just held confusion. Mouser peeked from her book and stood with a sigh, walking out, returning as fast as she could, giving the boyo one of the notes from the crime scenes. Sebastian nodded in slight praise. Speed control. "These were the papers left at the crime scenes containing a strong symbol without masquerade. Here." He gave it to Soma. "Commissioner Randal go quite angry at the sight of this, thinking it an insult. But the real meaning to it... That statue you guys pray to..." He encouraged Soma to think.

"So it must represent the goddess Kali who sticks her tongue out. So then the god Agni wrote this for..." Soma said slowly, the paper crumpling between twitching hands.

"Everything is for his god. Don't you think that contains the signs of a prayer and apology?" The boyo said slowly. Mouser returned to her book.

"Even after Agni left he still has faith in you. He lives for you. You have had a good butler." Sebastian complimented.

"Agni..." Soma whispered.

"How wonderful..." Lau clapped, enjoying the show.

"Well... let's retire for now." The boyo said, stretching, hiding a yawn behind his palm.

"Should we take this information to the Yard and leave them to take care of it?" Sebastian asked softly.

"Wait... but what of Agni and Meena?" Soma shouted, startled.

"What of it?" Lau asked, smiling.

"The way I see it this case has nothing to do with the underworld. We don't do philanthropic work." The boyo chuckled, reclining.

"Darn... I understand. This is my problem. I'll try to solve it myself."Soma's hands fisted, clenching his teeth, thinking.

"Nice to hear. Then I should do what I should do." The boyo glanced back, looking smug, anticipating the game. "I was called to London in the winter for such a boring case... don't you think I need compensation?" Mouser peeked over her book. Ciel was grinning with malice. Sebastian was smirking. Oh dear... "The show is only a week away and fortunately all the capable rivals have been removed. A Royal Warrant is granted according to the result of the show. In other words my Funtom Company will enter the competition and win against West. The Royal Warrant shall go to my company." He made a slight pause, recovering the sheen of boredom despite the lingering smirk. "I'm thinking of expanding my business into the food industry in addition to toys and confectioneries. It will certainly spread through the news if I become the purveyor of the Royal family from the show at first."

"Definitely. The Funtom Company launching into the food industry will also deter competitors. However you have only one week from now to create a food department. Will you have the time to find a curry specialist, a store and equipment?" Lau, as a businessman, intervened, questioning the plan's logistic.

"There is no need for all that. Isn't that right Sebastian?"

Mouser scoffed. Also she had the early drafts of that plan filed away for early March deployment.

"How could someone that serves the Phantomhives not be able of such a thing? Definitely a Royal Warrant..." Sebastian began with his usual smug self-assuredness.

"That's impossible." Soma broke the monologue coldly, looking worried. "West is competing in a curry contest? There is no way you can win."

"Why not?" Ciel asked, unused to be so bluntly denied.

"He has Agni. With his Right Hand of God."

"Of course the destructive power of the Right Hand of God is impressive but this is not about martial arts. It's a curry contest." The boyo said. As Soma didn't understand the references to the Royal Warrant he didn't understand fully what Agni could do.

"That's what I mean though. It's not about technique like fencing. Because it's a curry contest..." Soma began, hesitating a bit, thinking how he could explain. "You don't know much about Agni's ability or real curry. Real curry is defined by the spices. In real curry there are a few carefully chosen spices selected from the hundreds available, combined together in just the right amount. According to how it's done the taste, the smell, spiciness, the colour... everything will be different. There are countless alternatives. Cooking the best curry is like revealing the secrets of the universe. However Agni can do it. With a fingertip he can combine and bring out the best of the spices. The curry he creates is a miracle. The power to create a world from nothing is an ability reserved to the gods. That's why Agni's hand is called the Right Hand of God. I have never had a curry more delicious than curry."

"In other words the Right Hand of God... Is not about god level strength but god level capability?" Lau summarized calmly, glancing at the boyo with doubt.

"It seems that way." Ciel sighed, a bit resigned. "Sebastian?"

"Oh well... it looks like things are about to get though." The butler said thoughtfully.

* * *

"Eh? Sebastian you are up early... what are you cooking this morning?" Bard groaned sleepily as the servant trio walked into the kitchen. Finny chirped his good mornings happily as did Meyrin.

"Curry." Sebastian barely glanced, dividing his attention in-between the boiling pots and the cookbook.

"That's a rare choice for you." Bard rubbed his head, starting the coffee from the stash he kept for himself. "What kind of curry will it be?" Finny and Meyrin had started their own breakfasts, awaiting instructions. Mouser entered the room, yawning, sniffing the air, going for the leftover cake from the day before.

"Prince Soma is here also so I'm making a chicken curry. I have rarely cooked it because the Young Master doesn't like spicy foods. Now..." Sebastian closed the book and began to work, quickly and methodically.

Meyrin and Mouser walked out to prepare the dining room, returning as soon as that was done.

"Wow... yummy..." Finny was saying when they returned.

"Smells good." Meyrin piped in, rushing towards the plate, admiring Sebastian's work.

"With this curry that guy will be no match for you." Bard was praising, patting the butler's back.

* * *

"Yuck..." Soma groaned after the first bite into the English curry, looking utterly disgusted.

"It doesn't please you?" Sebastian asked, looking slightly disappointed. Soma jumped on his chair, startled.

"Ah... no it's just very different from what we have in India." He tried to cover his faux pas.

"It's all right. Please continue." Sebastian encouraged. If the book had resulted in that reaction he needed more information about the food he was currently experimenting with. Soma sighed, shivering but slightly reassured, taking a deep breath to fortify his resolve.

"Firstly the taste is too weak and I can't smell anything. I can still feel something rather like powder in my mouth. Such a thing is just not curry."

"That is weird. I used only the finest curry powder..." Sebastian replied thoughtfully, rethinking each of the points.

"Curry powder? What is that?" Soma shook his head for a moment. "I've never seen such a thing India. Agni didn't use it. Maybe..." Soma tried to explain once again. It seemed that last night he hadn't been explicit enough about the nature of the curry... "Spices are the base of a curry. The scents will fade away if you don't grind the spices. In my palace we have servants just for grinding."

"Oh. So it's out of the question to use already ground spices." Sebastian understood the issue, frowning for a moment. The Young Master's dislike for spicy foods and the English way of cooking might hinder him a bit... So how to manage...

"Agni's curry has different tastes and colours depending on the ingredients. He combines them carefully, thinking of each flavour." That much he knew. It was Agni's art.

"Well then... firstly we need fresh spices of high quality." Sebastian began.

"Then West has the advantage. He controls the distribution of his own company so he can secure such things easily." The Young Master grumbled, annoyed by the setback.

"We don't have much time. We need to contact a trading company." Sebastian completed. All three men glanced at Lau who around looked blissfully unaware. He was the president of a trading company after all.

* * *

"I have something for you." Mouser whispered showing a pile of papers, leaning against Sebastian who was curved over a stack of books about Indian cooking and curry, her arms sliding around his waist, chin on his shoulder. Compiling knowledge while waiting for the spices seemed like a sound move on their part. "These are the curry recipes from eliminated competitors and the ones still in the game. I also took the liberty to snoop around West's house again."

"Were you careful?" Sebastian picked up the papers and read some of them, putting the one that demanded the use of curry powder aside. Mouser chuckled.

"No one cares about the scullery maid. I dressed for the part." She reassured him. Agni hadn't seen her. And others would be hard pressed to remember what she looked like. It was a normal method used to map a house before a burglary when bribing the servants was too risky. Just steal some clothes from the pegs and mingle.

"So the scents are still fresh in your mind?" The demon inquired, reaching up, caressing her neck slowly, making her sigh against his ear. The townhouse, the guests and the approaching contest didn't create the best environment for any kid of escapades.

"I will go in again, nearing dinnertime. It seems West has Agni practicing his recipes tirelessly so nothing can go wrong." She sighed and slumped a bit against him, appreciating the soothing touch. "For now I have a favour to repay."

* * *

The attack wasn't entirely unexpected even though she was standing in front of the bookstore. Mouser simply dodged, sharply, ignoring the people that walked around, some shocked gasps and murmured insults, and made her assailant slide into a secluded alley, away from prying eyes, before huffing a smoky cloud and smirking.

"Quite a pleasure to see you again poppet." The thief said, her voice smooth and even. The Grim Reaper hadn't used anything near full strength. It was a greeting, not a proper attempt.

"Evee." Grell said evenly, straightening dramatically, showing a unique grin. Before plunging a death scissor towards her throat. Mouser moved away, clasping hands behind her back, keeping her own smirk in place.

It was to be expected. Now… how to play with it…

"Jealousy does not suit you poppet." She teased, dodging with a quick backwards jump while Grell struck, the blades sinking on the cobblestones, pulled out quickly as her focus didn't waver. People just walked by, uncaring or unaware. Perfect then.

"I cannot allow you just to stay there, alive…" The Grim Reaper informed ruefully, stopping, snapping the scissor open, closing them with a dry sound, chuckling, hair dramatically tossed away before charging. "Mine and Sebastian's love…" Mouser gripped the Grim Reaper's wrists, stopping both blades, just deflecting the blow, the rush backing her away towards the alley wall. She glanced back, grinning for a moment despite the strain in her arms.

"Poppet I believe you are misinformed about the nature of our relationship." Mouser whispered in a low tone, slipping slightly closer, rather intimately, coming face to face, blowing a strand of silver smoke against Grell's lips.

"Covenant!" Grell shouted and shrieked as Mouser loosened her grip, the death scissors sinking into the wall, plummeting deeply enough for even the most smooth blade to be pulled out effortlessly. If she wanted the Scythe back there would be a great deal of exertion involved. "What's there to be wrong about?" The Grim Reaper continued, glaring down, forgetting the struggle to get the main weapons out to slash the competition. Then, trying to use the fact that they were face to face, Grell tried to slam her forehead against Mouser's.

Mouser chuckled, ducking suddenly, allowing the Grim Reaper to slam the hard head against the brick wall, letting go of the weapons, dazed, pieces of masonry falling in flakes around her. She mule kicked upwards, catching Grell in the gut, eyes flaring red suddenly, her strength enough to toss her across the alley against the opposite wall, jumping forward quickly, pinning her to the ground.

"It's a contract for mutual benefit." Mouser said sitting on the Grim Reaper's back, playing with a lock of red hair without a care, ignoring the writhing and bucking under her, adjusting accordingly. "He increases his power and status as a demon and I get to have power. Sure we have a connection and we do share a bed but…" Grell was finally able to shove her away. Mouser recovered, straightening, avoiding the following attack. The Grim Reaper had been able to pick up one of the scissors. "Again this is part of a selfish contractual obligation that happens to keep demons strong." Mouser spat out her spent cigarette, stepping on it. Smoothly she manoeuvred within the next dodge, slamming Grell against the wall with just a bit of nudging, pressing herself bodily against the Grim Reaper's back, tilting her head to whisper against Grell's ear. "Wouldn't you want a strong demon? One who can overpower you, overwhelm your senses?"

Grell moved half heartedly, slashing. Mouser stayed still when the Death Scythe nicked her cheek, some of her memories slipping out, exposed. A dramatic record… She thought, amazed at that strange thing, watching a shard of her own life.

_Blood covered the floorboards in a glossy coating, fresh and bright under the candlelight. The man was still alive though, begging. The plea had changed. No longer a cry for life but a supplication for death. Mouser looked down, drawing patterns with the tip of her worn boot, thinking, keeping the edge of the orphanage dress away from the congealing puddle despite the fact that blood stained her whole body. _

_Jack was watching over her shoulder, smiling slightly, the effect widening his Glasgow grin to frightening proportions. She was six at that time. This was her fifth kill, the one who had woken up and fled before she could deal with him. But maybe this was the proper way to do it. Long and slow, returning every bit of the pain he had delivered. She had explained why she wanted to catch this man. Jack had agreed, his own story driving him to help and protect his little Mouser, but said that men like him would never go away. Mouser knew there were others. But dealing with that group might give some a bit of pause before purchasing at Mrs. Packard's. _

"_Are you going to finish it luv?" Jack asked._

"_No. Let him bleed." She answered, putting the swish-blade in her pocket with a sigh._

Mouser let go suddenly, her seeds planted, walking away, leaning against the wall, fishing out a new cigarette, clicking the lighter, outwardly ignoring her for the moment.

Grell seemed to have calmed down somewhat, considering what had been said, adjusting the glasses carefully, dusting the jacket and checking her appearance carefully, surveying the damages, mostly self inflicted as Mouser hadn't drawn a weapon, recovering the second scissor.

As Sebastian said the attachment to the Death Scythe that had been taken away crippled that particular Grim Reaper greatly. Like those men that only knew how to shoot a gun. Give them only a knife and come morning dead in the gutter they are.

"Love… ah poppet, I make no claim of it nor do I pine for such a thing." Mouser finally continued, gesturing dismissively.

"Why would I believe you?" Grell huffed, making the death scythes disappear, crossing her arms, rocking a bit on the heels, leaning against the opposite wall, mirroring.

"Why would I lie over such a triviality? Mouser shrugged in response, catching on the opportunity that was being offered, smirking.

"It is not trivial." The Grim Reaper's hackles rose, going into drama diva mode. "Love is what makes my maiden heart throb and the passion that leads to the struggle of life and death…"

"Right. Yours. Don't get your bloomers in a twist now poppet…" Mouser drawled. "Males are troublesome. Human, Demon, Reaper…" Mouser shook her head slowly. "But I'll say this again. Why lie? Especially when I offered you help before." The Grim Reaper seemed thoughtful, gloved hand fisted under the chin, tilting her head, pouting. "And when I went through some trouble to get you a thank you present seeing the Young Master felt no need to honour his verbal agreement…" The gold and ruby necklace gleamed between them. Grell's eyes widened in appreciation, walking away from the wall, leaning closely, sharply and suddenly, making a squealing sound of joy. "Isn't it gorgeous? Blood red stones that would suit you so beautifully." Mouser approached, slipping the metal around Grell's neck. The Grim Reaper stayed slightly bowed, allowing her to lock the jewel in place. "I cannot give you Sebastian. And I will need him for the next century as I'm little more than a child. What I'm offering is a friendship, an alliance of sorts. Tit for tat." Mouser stepped back, extending her gloved hand. "Have we got a deal?"

Grell huffed for a moment then grinned, extending her hand, clasping Mouser's before pulling her into a hug. The thief's jaw clenched, twitching for a moment.

"Evee dear…" Grell started, rocking her back and forth, rubbing cheeks. "Of course. It will be the proof a Demon and Grim Reaper can work together and that Sebastian's love can be mine."

"Oh my. Sir… I would advise you to let my Evee go. She has this oddly intense dislike for being touched by anything vaguely resembling a male. Also I do not know if you notice that there is a pistol pointed at your stomach." Charlotte's voice said calmly from the entrance of the alley, wearing a simply bronze day-dress with a high collar made of transparent fabric, a sweetheart neckline and long, fitted sleeves, looking fashionable, elegant and calm.

"Charlotte… am I late?" Mouser smiled, slipping the gun back into the under-arm holster, parting from Grell. Frankly it felt no different than being hugged by Charlotte despite the factual male body but female-ish mind. The pistol had just been an instinctive reaction and safeguard.

"A bit but I understand. One grows used to the attempted murders." She examined the scene, deciding if her interference was needed or not. "Introduce me to your friend."

"This is Grell Sutcliff. Madam Red's former butler." Charlotte seemed barely phased. Mouser smiled. "Now that is done you must excuse me Grell as I have… to endure whatever Charlotte wants to do with me."

Charlotte grinned suddenly, fluffing the loose curls that bounced under the wide-brimmed hat.

Mouser's blood ran cold.

"I see you neglected dressing like a woman once again although I must admit that this feminine appearance is a great improvement. Would you like to come shopping with us Grell Sutcliff? Maybe combining our wits we can force her into a dress." Charlotte walked forward looping one arm around Mouser's right, under the cape.

"Maybe a deep crimson one would suit Evee best." Grell took the left, doing the same, smiling for Mouser's friend nicely, appreciating the style, the jewellery and the invitation.

"You have excellent taste dear." Charlotte praised as both dragged Mouser towards the stores.

"Frankly I'd rather be killed if one of you wouldn't mind…" The thief complained meekly.

* * *

"I thought you were going to West's house." Sebastian didn't look up from the research as he heard Mouser's steps accompanied by an odd soft rustle. He checked the time. Nearing dinner preparation hour…

"I'll be needing a bit of help first." Mouser said, stopping, clearly fidgeting.

"Mouser? Damn girl… you're a beauty." Bard entered the kitchen, carrying a bag of potatoes, stopping, smiling at her. A pained sound came from the thief. "Like a doll." The cook continued, nudging Sebastian companionably.

Sebastian finally looked, confused.

She was wearing a dark red dress looking very vexed and pale. The deep colour was accentuated by black lace on the edges of the trumpet sleeves and layered skirt and the border of the square neckline and stand-up collar. Black velvet buttons decorated the front. It had no train as it was a day dress. A _sur la tête_ pillbox black hat accentuated by marquise cut a garnet was delicately placed and tilted on her head. A pair of colourful boxes, for the dress and for the hat were placed next to her, containing what she had been wearing before, the man that had accompanied her leaving on an elegant black carriage.

They forced her in a dress. At least they allowed her to keep her own underwear but the corset was imposed and tightened and the layers of fabric came next. Grell took a very sadistic delight in cracking two ribs or more to put it on as she was manning the lacing up. On complaint Charlotte just said she was being blinkered and to shut up and let the fashionables do their job. Mouser had said something along the lines of death, evil, threats and drowning.

Charlotte had been considerate enough not to burden her with a tail or jewellery.

The seamstresses had buzzed with excitement, fawning over Charlotte's generosity and demand that the dress be ready that same afternoon, in fact that they walked out with her in it. Then the hairdressers with evil curlers and haberdasher… they allowed her to choose the hat. Actually Mouser rather liked the hat.

"I will steal everything you have in our next game. I will force you to walk around on the nude for this…" She threatened.

The cook just chuckled, leaving when Mouser picked up the bottle of rum from the cupboard, taking a swig, cussing for a moment. The demon watched with slight amusement at the lady-like appearance and the street gestures.

"Now Sebastian please get me out of this corset. I'm not used to not breathing and we need the info…" The thief pleaded softly, placing a hand on the unwieldy structure under the silk.


	19. Chapter 19

"Amazing… these are all the spices you would see in my country." Soma stated in surprise and awe as Lau's men delivered labelled bags of scented herbs, spices, ingredients. The backyard smelled like the docks without any of the unpleasant tangs of the still water, rotting fish, dirty bodies, tar and smoke.

"It all smells wonderful." Sebastian stated after opening one of the bags, gloved hands sifting through small dark orbs of pepper. "These are premium spices." Anyone with experience in the kitchen could tell. For Mouser it made no difference. They were just nice scents and tastes that could be sold by a very nice profit in the black market. One would be surprised on how much some were willing to pay for a handful of nutmeg.

"To prepare them all in one day. The Earl sure has a rough way to use people. I'm not even an expert in spices." Lau chuckled, surveying the delivery, watching the boyo carefully. He was smirking slightly, satisfied.

"You are only useful in times like these." Satisfied enough to say something that could be considered as a borderline nicety.

"Meh it's never a bad time to do the earl a favour." Lau shrugged, displaying the cunning of a street-dweller. Mouser smirked, making a note on the list as Sebastian, Finny and Bard carried the bags inside, keeping the inventory straight and neat. From the recipes they had a list of the most commonly used spices. If any of those were missing they would have to be procured some other way.

"Then I'll begin cooking some curry right away." Sebastian turned to the guest, pausing a bit on the procession of spices. "Prince Soma. Only you know Agni's godly curry. Could you please give me some advice regarding the taste of it?"

"I don't mind." Soma straightened, clapping his hands, clearing the scented dust of the dry spices away, looking around, slightly concerned, eyeing the amount of exotic things placed about. "But does a British person like you know how to use all these spices?" His nightly encounter kicked in suddenly, making the prince take refuge behind Ciel, shivering, trying to clear the air. That kind of back-pedalling when talking to Sebastian was rather amusing. "It's just something one should fool around with… I just thought it could be hard since you aren't used…"

"I understand your concern." It was a valid point that was easy for the demon to concede without harming his pride. "Give me a little time and I'll what I can do. Please just wait for me to finish."

"Is it really alright?" Soma asked in a hushed tone as the spice carrying resumed.

"Who knows." The boyo shrugged, yawning, walking towards the house. "Let's take a nap." He proposed.

"Homework." Mouser called, grinning. The boyo stopped for a moment, glaring. She made another mark on the list. "You know who has a crop?" She sing-sang softly, looking at the page as if the issues were unrelated.

* * *

Mouser helped the Sebastian place a sample of each spice on a small plate, the scents filling the kitchen, rather overpowering in a way, more so than when they had been outside, growing even sharper as they ground some to a fine or coarse dust, the long table looking bright and colourful. Bard and Finny stored each burlap sack in the pantry after the spice had been taken and displayed. Meyrin was still completing the morning routine, most likely attending to the cleaning of the rooms. Tanaka watched, looking curious about the preparations.

Tanaka, Bard and Finny were then given a supplies' list and sent to the market.

Fresh provisions for other recipes Sebastian said.

A way to get them out of the house for the time it took to cook something, more likely.

He snapped his work gloves in place, examining the table, tasting each of the spices speedily.

No other ingredient was out yet so no other scents or tastes interfered.

"That's fairly revolting." Mouser commented, sitting back on a bench, sticking her tongue out, feeling as if powder had been stuck to the back of her throat, picking up the book. It was a few minutes before Sebastian was done, looking thoughtfully at the plates. The demon had two days of delay in any attempts. Recipes only got one so far especially when the flavours and scents of some of the ingredients were an unknown.

"Start dicing the onions." Sebastian asked, taking the pots, pans and tools out, preparing a veritable assembly line, placing the spices in groups.

"What's the plan?" Mouser asked, preparing the knives, dragging the basket out of the pantry.

"I'll start by replicate Agni's curry from that morning. Then if none is suitable I'll need you to point the scents that you remember from West's house so we can try something different."

* * *

Soma was staring in shock at the curries displayed on the table as Sebastian explained the logic behind such a massive variety. The prince's reaction marked just how inhuman were the speed and quantity produced. The servants just reacted with enthusiasm, having been asked to be a part of the tasting. In any event Sebastian knew exactly which words to use to encourage Soma into tasting every single recipe and give an accurate comment.

Mouser juts took an occasional bite of each, reading, relegated to a corner of the spice-scented kitchen, her senses seriously affected by the amount of onions she had to chop previously. She sniffled for the murdered pearly orbs and flipped the page, moving on with the soiled dove's descent into despair.

It didn't take long for everyone to be defeated by full stomachs, groaning in culinary agony.

Sebastian was having entirely too much fun force feeding people, smiling brightly while carrying the next variation of the recipe.

"Now the next curry is ready. Cardamom and garlic." he placed the next plate next to Soma's head. The prince was resting after the last plate, breathing slowly, completely flat on the table, arms limp over the edge. But something made him perk up, sniffing the air, the soft wisps of smoke coming from the plate, carrying the scent of that curry.

"This curry!" His voice came out different too, no longer choked in too much samples. "Is different from before." He mumbled while carefully picking a piece, his eyes loosing focus for an instant.

Mouser peeked. The others had similar expressions of bliss in their faces, but not one was as sharp as the prince's.

"Prince Soma?" Sebastian asked, snapping the man away from the reverie.

"This curry is very similar to Agni's curry." The prince finally pronounced, after a couple of head shakes, clearing his mind, a slight crease of focus appearing between his eyebrows as he carefully considered what he had just tasted, trying to keep up with the description he had provided so far.

"You did it Sebastian." Bard praised, having cleaned up his plate.

"As expected from our butler." But no one could match the appetite of a growing boy like Finny.

Tanaka was nodding, having done pretty much the same as Mouser. A couple of bites out of each variety was enough after all.

"You made such a complicated combination." Meyrin praised, twisting her apron.

"But it's still different." Soma finally spoke, looking a bit crestfallen. "The smell, flavour and spices is indeed similar but something is not right…"

"Something?" Sebastian sighed. Even a demon couldn't take that much amount of failure in a row although they were only failures in comparison to something so wondrous that was called the curry of God.

"I don't know how I can explain… even if you ask me…" Soma took a deep breath, absorbed into his musings. "Well… the best I can say is that Agni's curry has a deeper taste…" Something akin to awareness flickered in his eyes. "That's it. Substance. There isn't enough substance." He announced, proud that he had figured out his own riddle.

"Substance?" Sebastian stopped after whispering the word, tasting it, thoughtful, glancing at Mouser. She shrugged, returning to her book. Human she might have been but she also belonged to the lower tiers. Delicious, delightful, substantial, fulfilling and pleasant were very far from her mind as a child. Gruel had to be endured and gulped as fast as possible, not appreciated. Boiled vegetables without flavour... well until she had found Jack she though they _had_ no flavour and just floated about in some brownish soupy broth like oddly shaped grey lumps. And you either ate them or were beaten for being ungrateful. Then went to bed hungry.

"How's it going?" The boyo's smug voice rose from the kitchen's door, Lau peering in over his shoulder, walking into the warm place, tasting a bit of the curry that had been considered almost good enough.

"Young Master" Sebastian acknowledged his presence calmly. "You shouldn't come down here right now…" As a butler he should be dutifully horrified that the master of the house had descended to the servant's area.

"Three days until the contest." He challenged with a smirk, amused by something that was running through that twisted little head. Mouser smiled slightly. Still a boyo despite all. "It looks like you're working very hard. Oh by the way… for today's desert I'll have gâteau chocolat." He demanded before leaving haughtily.

"As you wish." Sebastian acquiesced.

"I'll get the things…" Mouser said softly, abandoning the book, gathering utensils and ingredients, opening a work area as Sebastian continued to focus on the curries, displaying them as he liked it, measuring the ingredients according to the recipe she found in the drawers. Sebastian took over soon, telling her to keep an eye on the bubbling pots.

"I am totally stuffed…" Bard groaned, rolling out of the chair, stretching. The cake mixing was giving them a small breather away from the spicy food. "I should do some exercise…" He mused.

"Let's go to the garden prince." Finny said excitedly, grabbing Soma's hand, dragging him towards the door was the prince waddled.

"I'll finish my washing." Meyrin stated, adjusting her glasses and headpiece, covering her mouth for a moment.

"Everyone… the next curry is finally ready to serve." Sebastian announced cheerily, nodding at Mouser to take the one with the golden-red colour away from the heat.

There was a brief moment of panic amongst the tasting group. _I can't take it anymore_ seemed to be the verdict coming out of their lips.

"Be ready in ten minutes." Sebastian said with a threatening smile. How could anyone look so ominous while wearing an apron, holding a bowl of chocolaty goodness, a whisk and a smile was anyone's guess. He managed to do it.

* * *

"What exactly is there not enough of…" Sebastian murmured in the quiet kitchen. Mouser dried the plates quietly as he walked around, gathering what was dirty, dumping it into the sink, organizing the table and counters. "From all of these experiments I figured out how to make the right colours, spiciness and smells by combining various spices." He cut a bit of the cake that was leftover, placing it next to Mouser who happily stopped her work, grabbing the fork and plate. "I also figured out how to use the softness and sweetness of fruits, sourness of the yogurt and mildness of dairy products." He had tried all the recipes he had gathered, all the hints his senses provided, used all the memories Mouser could recall of Agni's cooking in West's house. "Even so the depth that the curry of God has is a completely different thing…" He stopped, wiping his gloved hands, taking the gloves away, revealing the skin, the nails, the contract seal. Mouser's eyes followed him when not closed in bliss. "This is not a good place to finish… unready..."

In silence he washed the dishes, the methodical activity leaving his head free. Soma and the servants would be useless for a while, stuffed to the limit of what was humanly possible. Except Finny but the gardener was not a very picky eater and did not know Agni's curry as deeply as the prince. The thief made small purring sound and moans from time to time along with the sound of the metal fork and ceramic platter.

"What is it with you and chocolate?" Sebastian asked amused for the briefest moment.

"It can be so bitter and dark… and yet it satisfies my sweet-tooth and feels so good when it's coating my tongue… then you feel its sweetness… almost as good as when we… ah." She made a fake playful shiver shake her shoulders, continuing her consumption gâteau. "Also I never got any treats before this job so back off or I'll bite you." Mouser smiled and joined him in washing silently, companionably, bumping his hip playfully to make room.

The Young Master was, of course being difficult. They both had heard his win-win scenario.

Mouser had just shrugged saying he was a child after all and asking what did the conditions of his contract say about a lie that was not a lie till it became a lie.

"The problem is the substance…" That was where all the recipes seemed to be failing, a hurdle that came again and again, after each tasting. "Something that does not destroy the complicated combinations of various spices and yet leads to a high level of fresh flavour… such an ingredient…" He looked down at the bowls. Then at Mouser whose tongue was touching her lip, absent-mindedly, catching some flakes of the chocolate cake.

Sebastian caressed her cheek softly, taking her attention away from the task, leaning down, pressing her lips against his, cupping the back of her head, keeping her tilted while languidly tasting her, tongues twining wetly, and the idea that had slipped into his mind, her hands gripping his shoulders for balance. Bitter darkness and a sweet aftertaste. It could work.

* * *

"What did you say? You made the curry of God? You found a way to bring out substance in a night?" Soma was in shock after Sebastian announced the progress, bringing the proof into the dining room. The boyo seemed slightly broody about it. Ambivalent most likely.

"Indeed. I am just a hell of a butler." Sebastian smirked slightly, platting his masterpiece. "Please have a taste." Soma's expression changed to pure bliss after he tasted the first piece of the chicken, eyes gazing, seeing something far away. "Does it please you?" Sebastian asked when the Prince glanced at him with a small, watery-eyed smile.

"This is not Agni's curry." Soma said softly, his words calm. "This is a curry that contains complicated flavours and spices like Indian curries but it also has a depth and fresh taste only a British could make." The prince made a slight pause before clearing his throat, sighing. "This curry is worthy of competing with the curry of God." He pronounced it regally before easing into a softer mood once more. "It's delicious butler. But how did you do it in one night?" The oddity of the achievement was bothering his mind once again.

"This is the answer." Sebastian said simply, slipping out a bar or Funtom chocolate.

"Chocolate?" The three men in the room looked confused, shocked, looking at their plates.

"Cacao in chocolate was originally used as a spice which provided a special sweet flavour. The chocolate has milk butter and sugar added to it, blended perfectly which added the deep substance the curry needed." Sebastian began, explaining his reasoning carefully. "Also the Phantomhive Company has the best chocolate made with a large dose of pure cocoa. To make our curry there isn't a more suitable ingredient." Publicity stunt at its best. "I noticed when I was cleaning the cake the young master requested yesterday. So I am thankful for your help Young Master." The demon bowed slightly, mockingly. Master and demon knew it.

"Amazing Ciel… your butler made the curry of god in just one week…" Soma's eyes shone brightly with admiration.

"Yes but you can't beat him just with this. To replicate is different from winning." The boyo interrupted the praising session with his usual dour plotting. "You are on par. Isn't that right Sebastian?"

"Indeed. As things are now." The demon admitted easily without loosing his smile.

"That face tells me you have a plan Mr. Butler." Lau, the wearer of a similar expression on occasion caught on easily, pointing it out much to the boyo's irritation, resting his face on intertwined hands.

"Yes." Sebastian admitted once more without preamble, more as a challenge to the Young Master than a confession.

"It's no lie?" The boyo demanded, inquiring further, suspicious.

"Of course not. I do not tell lies." Sebastian said offhandedly, straightening. "On my name as a butler of the Phantomhive family our company will definitely be the one to take home the Royal Warrant."

* * *

The Exhibition was an elegant event for those who went with an invitation so Mouser was ordered to put a more proper appearance as there were business partners and possible future allies walking around the Crystal Palace. She was not happy about it but the dress Sebastian provided was much more practical than the red behemoth Charlotte and Grell had forced her into.

It was a three piece composition and only one of its parts needed help to be placed on her body. After the underwear, petticoat and boots were in place Mouser braced herself as Sebastian slid the black corset embroidered with a delicate and discreet pattern into place and pulled the lacing until it moulded her form, cut off most of her air supply and re-cracked the ribs Grell had mangled almost a week ago. Most of it would disappear under the skirt's high waist that was buttoned on the front, the grey fabric draping deftly around her hips, sliding down to her ankles gracefully, black lace fluttering delicately around her boots, trimming the edge. The last piece was a bolero with wide sleeves and high neckline that left a window of skin and cleavage exposed, trimmed in simple black lace that matched the skirt's.

"Pin you hair back and wear the hat." Sebastian said after adjusting the minute details of the outfit. Mouser just nodded, focused on breathing, slow and careful, the steel boning completely unyielding, almost as bad as the other dress, while the demon left to attend to the dressing of the boyo and the last minute preparations.

Guns were out of the question, too bulky to conceal anywhere but under the skirt and once there the only way to reach them would be to either drop the fabric or just pull it up. Also if she wanted the guns they should have been worn before putting on the girly section of the outfit. A couple of derringers fit nicely right under her bust but that was about it on the ranged section. The daggers around her forearms would be easily concealed by the sleeves. She just had to watch how high she moved her arms because, unlike the shirt, there were no cuffs to prevent the fabric from slipping away from its place. She snapped the gloves in place before strapping the belts, flexing her fingers, disliking the loss of flexibility. Then the black and silver folding knife was placed between her breasts, the thief jumping a bit, muttering against the cold before addressing her hair, going through the familiar motions, perching then the hat, the red attracting the attention amongst the black and grey. Instead of a reticule she had a hardcover notepad and her fountain pen that, like a fancy-lady's fan had a bracelet to keep it dangling from her wrist.

Mouser walked out of the room, complaining in short growls, walking into the hall. Everyone seemed to be in high spirits and in their fanciest clothes. Soma had added even more jewels to his already exotic outfit and the boyo was in a sharply cut tweed suit. Sebastian looked like he always looked. She, the prince and the Young Master got in the official carriage, the demon driving. The servants went on the secondary one with the cooking utensils. The ingredients should have been already delivered to the contest location.

"I am so going to demand a bonus for this…" Mouser mumbled, forced to sit very upright in the carriage, hands on her lap, fingers twitching irritably. Although the skirt only demanded a very light and thin petticoat it was still an annoyance.

"It can't be helped." The boyo said without any particular intonation.

"Fine. Next time you wear the corset." A vague, uncomfortable look crossed Ciel's face before he looked away from the fidgeting thief. "What's with people and cracking my ribs… maybe I should just gut myself, reach inside and get them out of the way." And at the end of that she was gasping for air, annoyed.

"You look rather nice." Ciel experimented with flattery. He would be using some of that throughout that day when dealing with customers, judges and the polite world in general so maybe some practice was in order.

"And you look like your aunt in hunting gear." Mouser was not going to be deceived. But then she smiled as the boyo shook his head. "It could be worse though."

Soma was staring at her thoughtfully. Mouser and Ciel seemed to share some kind of odd kindred. Strange as it was because they barely had anything in common that he could see. She was a strange woman. Her behaviour was fluid, sometimes formal and cold, sometimes acting like a big sister or a playmate. He'd seen her hide Ciel a couple of times when he felt no will to work or didn't want to play with him. He'd seen her being vindictive, smiling while dumping armloads of paperwork for him to do. But that was not as strange as her relationship with the butler. That Soma could not pinpoint beyond the fact that they seemed to work in harmony.

* * *

Finny was immediately distracted by the colours, sounds and strange creatures on display leaving Soma to have a long moment in the spotlight as he explained what the animals meant for Indians, where his country was, what was like being a prince. The trio was entranced, gleefully ignoring Sebastian's advice to not wander away.

"Ah, Earl." Lau met them, walking calmly around the crowd, RanMao moving next to him, looking around without any sort of reaction, standing out as usual, dragging looks from prudish women and lustful men. "It's time for the big showdown right?" The Chinese asked politely, leaning in conspiratorially.

"You brought your girl to a place with clients?" The boyo asked in slight irritation, surveying the Chinese doll, a light blush dusting his cheeks.

"But RanMao is like my cute little sister." Lau whined playfully, hugging her around the waist, poking her round cheeks. "I though I could treat her to some curry."

"I see." The boyo said simply, giving up on the chastisement, moving on.

"So the Prince's butler is really serious?" Lau continued, shifting his focus to the more business like matters.

"He betrayed the master he regards as a god. Of course he's serious. It's safe to assume that this is all for the prince." Ciel stopped and looked around. His servants were looking in awe at a snake charmer while Soma explained the trick, looking a bit more at ease. "He was probably told that the girl will be returned to them once the plan is complete." The boyo finished his reasoning, cane tapping on the tiles for a moment. Mouser stopped, adjusting her skirt with a slight kick, taking a deep breath, feeling a bit of give in the corset now. All the movement and travelling had finally warmed and softened the fabric, possibly loosening the lacing.

"If so it sounds like a lie to me." Lau mentioned thoughtfully.

"Well, should his plan succeed, letting Agni go after the Royal Warrant would possibly mean the leaking of his deeds. So if I was West…" the boyo continued, nodding politely to some passer-by that was important enough to earn his attention.

"You would have him killed?" Lau piped in merrily.

"You really think it would be worth killing someone over?" Ciel snorted, annoyed by the assumption.

"I'd do it if it was me." Lau shrugged, glancing at RanMao, calling her closer for a hug.

"Why bother rewarding a useless loose thread?" Mouser completed the though, tapping the fountain pen against the cover. "Just snip it free." That was the risk of reward upon completion. More often than not all that was given to you was a bullet in the head.

"I'm more interested in your strategy for today butler." Lau shifted again, turning to Sebastian. For all the curry he had tasted and experiments he had witnessed… no one in the household had seen his secret to win. Mouser had to admit her curiosity was also peaked.

"That is…" Sebastian began in a playful tone, smiling lightly before stopping, glancing over his shoulder, turning stiff and formal once again.

"Oh my… if it isn't Earl Phantomhive." West was walking towards them, cane and hat in hand, smiling openly, perfectly styled and dressed, the appearance dazzling through effort and money.

"Lord West" The boyo acknowledged listlessly.

"Long time no see. It has been almost a year since the last social event if I recall correctly. It is an honour to meet you again." He laughed loudly, chattering non-stop, clearly liking to be the centre of attention and the one who received all of it. "You never change, always wearing a well tailored coat. So what brand does someone of the Earl status wear?"

"My butler picks out all of my clothes. I care nothing about things as brands."

"You never change." He laughed again, dismissing the cold shoulder with ease, looking at Mouser for an instant. "Hired a lady secretary? They are becoming quite popular in our circles. Sullivan's Secretarial School right, Miss?" Mouser just blinked and curtsied slightly. It was the fashionable place to get one, after all and someone obsessed with names and brands would think that. Lord West moved on, having arrived at the topic he wanted to pry in. "Come to think of it… isn't your group competing in this contest?"

"Yes. I am considering expanding my business into the food industry." Pleasant colloquial conversation, no true substance.

"I was rather surprised to learn that you would enter. Did you go on the hunt for a talented chef?" Still prying. When it went unanswered he changed once more, this time to self-praise. "My company can not loose. We have hired a curry specialist." Bragging words.

"Is that so..." And they were starting to grate on the boyo's nerves. Good to know.

"Between you and I…" West leaned carefully, looking around with a theatrically spooked expression "some spies broke into my home. They tried to disguise it as a burglary, taking a few baubles from my wife... It was terrible. One of my Galle Lamps was broken along with the chess set I bout at General Trading. It scares me even to think about it." He shuddered then recovered with a sharp cough against a gloved fist. "Luckily the secrets of the curry were kept safe. I get shivers knowing the criminal might even be here." A pair of smiling demons was chuckling to the side, looking innocent and succeeding at it. Ciel chuckled too, acting as if the last part was indeed the joke the lord had meant it to be. "Enough about that. I heard the Queen might be attending." His tone had shifted to a greedy drawl, hands rubbing together in glee.

"And?"

"Well… Since Albert's passing the Queen does not make public appearances often. I'd like her to taste the curry we are so proud of in front of an audience before I receive the Royal Warrant." He chuckled once more, finally noticing he was getting very little from the conversation. So it was time to walk away and try to schmooze other higher placed noblemen. "Oh… this chat has gone on for so long... I will see you in a moment Earl." He was polite in his retreat, leaving behind the heavy scent of cologne.

"Before you receive the Warrant?" the boyo said quietly with disdain.

"Cocky little prick ain't he?" Mouser supplied, opening the notebook, scribbling a few notes.

"I can't wait to see his face when he realizes he has lost." The boyo smirked slightly, anticipating another win.

"Yes, my Lord." Sebastian acknowledged the request with a bit more formality, looking around then. "Then I will head to the competitor's room and wait."

Sebastian disappeared amongst the crowd quickly enough.

Lau and RanMao looked around, examining every place.

The servants and Soma had wandered away, fascinated by the different culture, guided by the native.

"Do you want me around boyo?" Mouser asked softly.

"Go. See if you can find something else to give us an edge." The boyo tapped the cane and walked away.

"Aye, aye." Mouser whispered looking around before walking the other way, approaching at every display, curious.

It was an elegant thing, carefully prepared. People walked about and talked, well dressed children played about. Fashionably impure, the mistresses, paraded the jewels and made their patron sweat while walking with their families. Well dressed children ran or played, hiding in corners, their voices heard over the other sounds. Exotic animals shuffled and made their presence known, vendors peddled their wares, trying to grab attentions. It was a market just much more elegant.

Such a different world. The thieves there were all crafty businessmen and bored nobles. Some of them were deeply into debt and kept digging themselves deeper just to show the world the appearance expected of a title. Mouser smirked slightly when they acknowledged her with tilt of the hat and pleasant smiles. She was a thread that lead to the Phantomhive's after all.

It would be few hours before the contest started and Mouser was expected to be near the boyo by then. He shouldn't be able to get in trouble in that place but if he did his soul was the easiest to find.

The glitter of gold, silver and bright stones caught her attention and she started to walk towards a jewellery display, curious about the style and value before stilling, the scent of brunt feathers and talcum covering decay reached her. It was too fast for her reflexes, the tug brusque and a long sharp blade of a rapier was pressed against her neck, against her skin, one of the man's arms locking her into place, around her waist. Too strong to be human, the scent around... a different instinct welled up, the need to kill growing sharper by the moment. Her free hand, the arm he had failed to grasp, dug into the wrist that kept the blade steady, nails sharpening through the glove's fabric, staining the lavender cuff as red as her eyes.


	20. Chapter 20

"Filth." The man was whispering in an angry saddened tone, close, a warm breath against her ear, the cold blade biting into her skin. Mouser was not struggling, just digging her claws deeper into his wrist, lacerating the flesh to the bone, eyes darting around, looking for a way out. As busy as the Palace was there were still shadowy spots where few looked... that nook was one of them. "You were pure yet you allowed a demon to take you." Not human she reasoned once again, not struggling, breathing slowly. A human would already have lost all semblance of grip because of the mauled flesh and nerves, not to mention blood loss. First of all she needed to break away, have a clear look of the assailant and no blade immediately threatening her life.

Mouser went limp, with a sudden sharpness, unbalancing him, dead weight, the fabric of the dress bunching while she slumped, making the man struggle, trying to take a firmer hold of her. Usually ladies went stiff before swooning. She used the lack of tension to break free, letting go of the bloodied wrist, slapping it, and by default the rapier, away, crouching, freed, pulling the skirt a bit to kick at the shins, hopping back, praying her heel didn't get caught on the skirt's trim as she stood.

A white haired man with purple eyes wearing a white suit, the colour slightly darkened, more greyish than white, like sooth stained snow, smelling of burnt feathers and decay. She showed her fangs, instinctively, a blinding hatred that was not hers coursing through her, having fished out the black knife from her cleavage the blade opened. It had been the easiest weapon to reach. He seemed surprised and then angered. A zealot's fire burned in his eyes. She had seen their ilk in several shapes and walks of life. The one he most closely resembled was a priest, a few years back who went to brothels and claimed all was sin while abusing the women there. She had heard that he had burned down the house after locking chits and patrons inside, claiming that was the only way to purify their stained bodies and black souls. It had been in Irish territory and the boyo's predecessor and the trigger happy O'Donnell hadn't taken it lightly. The fire had almost killed two children of a noble house that enjoyed the Queen's favour.

"Corrupted child." The man said, staring her down, whipping the blade to the right.

Mouser huffed, changing knife hands, reaching the bloodied and torn glove to her lips, gripping the fabric with a fang, pulling it off. The blood had the same repellent scent, overripe, rotten... And having been called much worse and with a lot more creative spins to the assessments over the course of her life Mouser was actually more interested on a few facts of that little attempt to take any kind of offense.

So let's see how far we can rile him with my perceived filthiness she thought.

He was not a Grim Reaper nor a Demon.

And if those existed...

"I was born of a whore and an adulterous man." The glove fell to the floor. Purple eyes followed, the blade pointed towards her unwavering. She repeated the process with the other. Her claws hadn't receded yet, easily double in size and as sharp as her blades. She felt suddenly hungry with all the souls flaring around and homicidal just because that man was standing there. While creating an attitude of nonchalance she was still keeping the small blade trained on the twitchy man. He was hesitating? Maybe the crowd a few feet away was giving him pause. She knew he was strong... so why hadn't she been dispatched already? "I am a thief, a murderer and a liar by choice and profession. When was I ever pure?"

The man moved fast, aiming for her chest. Mouser defended, deflected, stepping back, twirling, noticing his back was now towards the crowd, gripping the skirt with her free hand, yanking it up to step around. The black knife was keeping the rapier at bay, locked near the handle in a tense standstill at neck height. Her left hand had been quick enough after letting go of the fabric, holding one of the daggers, pressing it against his crotch.

Next time instead of the ridiculous petticoat she would use weapons to stuff that idiotic pouf on the skirt and be utterly uncaring about dropping the damnable piece of fabric.

"I could purify you, all this world..." He was saying in a soft voice, covering his insanity with a pleasant demeanour, trying to show her that was right... It was a familiar tone in such a different voice... _grateful girls are thankful and do as they are told._ Mouser's eyes narrowed, his soul flickering, different. It was… bitter, oily, putrid, reeking of a corruption that she had no name for. "Once your master is dead and his demon chained… get rid of the unclean, unwanted, barren."

Mouser eye widened in clear recognition, pressing the dagger harder. That gave him pause. Not a memory of a past. That was recent, that was a tower of dead girls and a dark place of twisted logic and a master that cared nothing for those who served him, discarding loyalty with ease and scorn.

"Get rid of you." She snarled with hatred, mirroring her words.

The clicking gears of a gun being cocked gave her a bit of pause, her grip on the knife trembling.

Interlopers could get hurt...

The man glance back, his expression murderous.

But he eased away, sheathing the sword, regaining a more controlled look, straightening.

"We do not want to make a scene do we?" Charlotte said sweetly, smiling while her ivory and gold embellished gun was pressed against the back of his head even as he moved through those gestures. She was wearing a dress made of purple velvet and silk, the hat tilted on her head without a care, hair curled. And behind the perfectly sweet doll appearance was the ruthlessness she had learned. While Mouser had always been the one at ease with blood and taking a life, doing the knife work as some said in the streets, Charlotte preferred the indirect way, a bit too squeamish in those early days.

"Unclean whore…" The man spat out, disappearing quickly into the crowd. Either he did not want to create a scene or deemed them not worthy of his time, neither to talk nor to kill. Or had another goal in mind that forced him to avoid an execution he was so clearly craving.

Charlotte slipped the gun into her reticule, looking smug. Mouser smiled slightly, noticing that the farther away he got the quicker her demonic traits returned to their camouflaged state.

"You're loving the fact that you are paying back all the times I did that for you on the streets." All the rescues from thieves, rapists, kidnappers, men that wanted revenge for some of Mrs. Packard's petty schemes…

"Quite." Charlotte preened and snapped her fingers, her manservant walking into view, picking up Mouser's gloves and notepad, returning it to her, bowing with a pleasant smile on his square jawed face. "Come. We'll go to the powder room to talk in peace." Mouser hid her weapons once more, concealing the carefully, following Charlotte who was giving orders. "Thomas… Warn the boys. I want information about that man and I want it before sundown." The guard left, taking the bloodied and torn gloves with him. They walked out of the nook into the sunny display areas of the Crystal Palace, mingling with the crowd.

"What do you want?" Mouser asked in amusement, dragging her words, smiling with narrowed eyes.

"I saw the necklace you gave to Grell. I want emeralds for that info." Charlotte adjusted her sleeves elegantly, pouting playfully. She greeted some of the passerby's, glared at others. Men who were involved with her or had been in the past shivered and veered away. Some politely tipped their hats. Women who knew glared back. Those who did not envied her clothes.

"We're magpies." Mouser said in regards of the sparkle obsession, chuckling. Charlotte laughed, stopping, waiting for the manservant in a formal suit to open the door, gesturing Mouser to walk in first.

The powder room was for the ladies to relax, gossip and fix their outfits. It was a light pink and decorated with flowers and overwrought mirrors. Maids walked about, ready to help if it was required. Ladies paraded their colourful dresses. Some scolded their children. Gossiping stopped when Charlotte walked in, replaced by either awe or revulsion, restarting when she sat down on one of the armchairs. Mouser occupied the one in front of her with a sigh of relief. The corset had loosened somewhat, letting her breathe a bit more easily.

"Who was he?" Charlotte cut to the chase, assuming a more business-like stance. A maid served tea, a floral blend with oolong, its scent soft and feminine. The china cups were simple, resembling a lily. They took their cups and saucers and waited till she was away.

"I do not know exactly." Mouser opened the notepad after placing the cup on the low table, scribbling. "But from what he said I'm sure he was the one behind that kidnapping case I told you about."

"The dolls?" Mouser nodded. "And he had the gall to call us filth." Charlotte's hand fisted, glaring. Anything with little girls hit a smidge too close to their scars. But moving on…

"We're about as clean as a chimney sweeper after a factory run." Mouser noted.

"True." Charlotte chuckled, discarding the past just as easily. "There is something else, isn't there?"

"I'm seeing way too many people that look similar and have white hair and purple eyes… and are linked to Phantomhive cases… Can you in your search see if he had any link to a place called Houndsworth?"

"Why?" Charlotte sipped the tea. "There is your little chit." She pointed out as a bejewelled Indian woman walked by haughtily, self assured in her fashionable clothes and clearly valuable ornaments, knowing her exotic appearance would make the others talk.

"Not really my issue for the moment." Mouser sighed, following with her eyes, casually, as if only checking the other female's fashion choices. "For now I'll say twin." Mouser frowned, returning to the more pressing issue. "I'm finding it odd that he went after me when he had previously shown interest in killing the boyo…" And then he finished nothing even though his strength was clearly greater.

"Why is that?" Her friend supplied conversationally.

"If the Houdsworth connection appears I will say it was because he ruined a cunt's plans. And later because he obliterated the dollhouse." Mouser shook her head, intertwining fingers. "And the boyo's vulnerable today. Sebastian is with the chefs, I'm here, the servants are with Soma and he didn't even bring a gun… I suppose that being with Lau and RanMao might keep some away."

"We know RanMao."

"That we do."

* * *

Mouser joined her group in the area that had been prepared as a stage and kitchen when the blonde announcer was starting the formalities. The owners of the participants were gathered, most of them beaming with anticipation and pride for persevering even through the devastating attacks that had been perpetrated against their coffeehouses. From the list she remembered it there were quite a few dropouts. The thief stood next to the boyo adjusting her skirts with a light flick of the wrist, picking up the notepad and fountain pen, opening the page where she had been placing random thoughts, sighing, making sure no sign of the quick scuffle was showing. Apart from the missing gloves everything seemed to be unstained and in place.

"You're late." The boyo complained, cane tapping with impatience as she scanned the crowd, looking for the white haired menace amongst the ladies exotic hats and the tall top hats around them.

"And I am sorry." Mouser answered with a small, quiet smile, looking at him. "But you do have a notion of how hard it is to walk in this thing?" She swivelled her hips for emphasis before looking towards the stage where the theatrics moved on. It was the same joyous man that had overseen the Ice Sculpture Contest in the Frost Fayre.

"Now today's judges are... a Palace Chef who will know no compromises in taste, Chef Higharm, a Tax Collector currently serving in India Mr. Carter and Viscount Druitt who has a great love for arts and food." The female portion of the crowd exploded in giggles, whispers and fanned harder. Mouser stiffened, raising the pad to chest level, covering her exposed cleavage. Ciel shivered, uncomfortable. "And these are today's contestants. Persian Tabb Company's Chef Tarpin, Dormitory Vill Company's Chef Lach, Dahlia Company's Chef Rickman, Lippcilin's Chef Wollest, Harold West Company's Chef Agni and the butler Sebastian from the Funtom Company." He stopped, pausing for a moment, looking back, in doubt and maybe a bit of awareness. "Butler?"

"Yes. I am no chef. I am one hell of a butler." Sebastian answered smiling pleasantly with a light bow.

The announcer just smiled, covering the break in the rhythm and continued, turning to the crowd.

"With this group of contestants it will be an exciting contest and we can expect some delicious curry. Let the contest begin!" There was some polite clapping as the cooks began their tasks.

"I guess we just sit back and wait for the curry." Lau said, keeping RanMao in a hug.

"Can't you wait silently?" The boyo complained, tapping with his cane, looking around, gauging reactions.

The crowd seemed to be fascinated by Agni's skill, adding to West's smug smile, dramatically announcing that that was Kali's right hand, the sure sign of an easy victory. Although a fair share of the awe also went to Sebastian's fast, confident movements. The spices began to scent the air, almost dizzying.

"Looks like we won't lose easily..." The boyo said, changing his opinion once more about what were his desires as the contest's outcome.

"What a bully..." Lau noticed too, chuckling.

Mouser smiled in agreement and scanned the crowd, uneasily, still feeling rather uncomfortable. But even stretching her senses she was not being able to catch that repulsive soul and scent again. And walking around with bloodied clothes would be rather noticeable. She shook her head, giving up. If he wanted to attack then he would. Just come and play with us she though.

"What is he doing?" There was a bit of shock going around in surprise as the chocolate was added, the brand clearly visible. As expected people were not convinced. Except the children. They immediately drifted towards that and started asking for chocolate. The Funtom Company might see a bit more sales in that day and throughout the next weeks, even more than the standard Christmas numbers... Christmas... she had made some purchases but... what exactly would she give a demon? As she told Grell over the tea the duo of fashionistas had dragged her to have, the Grim Reaper had it easy if she wanted to give Sebastian a present. Just put some souls in a box with a pretty bow, like one would give candy.

"As expected of Funtom, a company that makes toys and sweets. It's surely a way of advertise." But despite that comment by West, one voice in the crowd, Agni seemed concerned as he reached for something that had a salty sea scent, hidden under the workstation till then, pulling out a blue lobster much to the shock of the crowd. Such a thing was rare and reserved for the noble and rich.

"That... is a blue lobster... A Royal Blue Lobster... a creature only found in the clear sea waters off the coast of Britain and France." Druitt was in awe and stood dramatically to let everyone know it, and distinguish how splendid such a thing was. "The colour is only comparable to the famous Chartres Blue... splendid like a beautiful lady wearing a blue evening dress. And under that beautiful shell is a firm body that fascinates people with its delicate sweetness."

"I feel queasy..." Mouser whispered softly. Ciel groaned, nodding.

West smiled smugly, raving on and on about Agni's skills and the high quality of the main ingredient.

"This is bad... we are going to lose the competition." Soma said suddenly as the time neared its end, staring at some sort of dough Sebastian was balling.

"How so?" Ciel asked softly, frowning, looking away from the stage.

"It's true that Ciel's butler's curry is the real thing." Soma said looking at the dough doubtfully. "But only the curry is perfect. The problem is the naan." He shook his head, not explaining more, eyes closed. "One week to master the art of making curry it was too short..." Soma said morosely, shaking his head.

"Time's up." The announcer shouted after maybe half an hour. "Now to invite the judges to the stage."

It went surprisingly similar to the tastings at home, starting with the criticism of the use of curry powder to unbalanced spices, lack or overpowering flavours and the pressing issue of the substance. The judges were merciless, even Druitt despite all his flamboyant behaviour. Then again if the result was for the Queen to enjoy some high standards were surely in action.

It soon was Agni's turn.

Soma's khansama was looking very different from the cheery man from only a week ago, glum and sombre while placing his curry in front of the judge panel, taking the silvery dome away, revealing the lobster, pale steaming rice and a ring of colourful curries.

"My curry... Blue Lobster and seven types of curry. An imperial feast." Agni said loudly enough to be heard but without any spark to his voice.

"A whole homard bleu with red, yellow and green curries... what kind of delicacy is this?" The Palace Chef was suitable impressed but he had been the harshest so far in every critic.

"I made a variety, each with its level of spiciness and flavour so you can sample each to your liking." Agni explained. "All the curries were made to go perfectly with the lobster."

"Seven authentic curries made by an Indian and served with a homard bleu... such extravagancy..." The Palace Chef tried it, pausing, eyes growing wide. "It's delicious." Soon he composed himself. "The meat is suitably springy and a subtle flavour lingers after, permeating the entire mouth."

"And it's sweet, and spicy and rough... each a facet of what curry is... and all accomplished without compromising the flavour of the lobster." The Tax collector praised it next after a few bites, each coated a different colour.

And Druitt was not about to be left behind.

"Like the beautiful lady, unexpectedly met with seven precious stones enhancing her beauty..." He announced, flipping the blond fringe away from his blushing face. "A gold brooch shaped like a dove, a bracelet made of sapphires and pears, a garnet necklace, a cameo medal and a diamond and emerald ring on her exquisite finger... by you my heart has been stolen. Simply amazing. This is the best curry." He declared after all the theatrics, continuing with his metaphor. Ladies swooned. A lot of them most likely made a note to buy more jewellery. Mouser kept her face still, lips grimacing in distaste. His prattling was harmful.

"Many thanks for your praises." Agni answered humbly, eyes closed, pained.

"So has the winner been decided?" The announcer said excitedly, praising the competitive spirit, involving the crowd into the moment, turning towards Sebastian. "Last to the stage is the Funtom Company."

"This is my curry." He announced, placing the plate down, removing the dome to reveal a smooth oval of pale dough. It was met with silence, the tree judges were left staring, confused.

"This... is... what is this thing?" The Chef asked, blinking slowly, breaking the silence. Sebastian moved, pulling a pan of oil and its fire, dipping the dough in it with a pair of long tongues, calmly despite the confusion voiced around him. "What are you trying to pull?"

"Deep fried?"

"Ciel! What in heavens is your butler doing?" Soma said, eyes wide, confused.

"Is he trying to make a doughnut?" Bard gripped his hat, worriedly, chomping on his cigarette.

"It's ready." Sebastian pulled out a golden brown orb, putting each on its plate, perfectly centred before placing it once again in front of the judges. "This is our Company's curry." He announced again watching the confused reactions of both crowd and judges.

"But where is the curry?" The Chef was still confused.

"Wait a moment... the curry from the inside..." Druitt noticed, cutting through the crust.

"This is the curry our company proudly presents to you. The curry bread." Sebastian was smiling faintly, mockingly. Mouser shook her head. Crafty... Novelties even if they were not good sold quickly just because they had never been seen before. Even if no one ever bough them again the profit had been made.

"What in the name... I have never seen that kind of curry before..." Soma was whispering, staring.

"Well let's have a taste." The Palace Chef began, taking a piece. "It explodes in your mouth... the crispy exterior, the soft interior texture combined with that sticky curry creates several layers of heavenly taste." He gave his appraisal with shock and pleasure in his voice, staring down at the plate.

"And the fantastic curry on the inside... ingenious and fragrant, blended together so that when you slice that crust a heavenly scent spills out. And the generous chunks of chicken... really. A perfect creation." The Tax Collector talked next, digging into the curry with undisguised gluttony.

"The young girl at the ball that makes me want to love her tenderly." Druitt stood suddenly, still holding the fork, arms opened, voice resonating with emotion. "The mischievous mockingbird singing like a child in daytime but in the evening shows her true colours... the heartstring-pulling smile behind your mask... I really want to... hold you tightly in my arms." He sat back down, coughing slightly and regaining his panache. Mouser glanced at the side, noticing a shivering Ciel next to her. So the prattling was claiming its next victim. "Fresh innovation and undoubted quality. This really is the Funton revolutionary curry."

"I thank you for your praise." Sebastian bowed softly.

"Now the time you have been waiting for: the tasting." The announcer took over while the judges retreated. "Please help yourselves to whatever curry catches your fancy." He said to the crowd amicably, gesturing towards the tables that had been placed with samples of each of the curries, making the nobles and bourgeois scatter around, pick what pleased them and regrouping into gossiping rings. The chefs were taken to the back so they could not walk around, fixing their curries with stray spices like demented pixies. The judges were talking, the hum of their voices dim and broken by so many other sounds. But it was clear enough, especially in contrast with the gloomy silence in the cook's room.

"They are torn." Mouser whispered placing a little piece of lobster and green curry in her mouth, watching the area blankly. It was very good. Her hunger had been stirred by the previous encounter and seeing all the praise that Agni's curry had received and the fact that she had never had lobster… Another bite with golden curry. No wonder they smuggled those things at such shocking prices… "It is really between Sebastian and Agni."

"Aren't you being treacherous eating that?" Ciel asked coldly, teasingly.

"It's good." She shrugged. "You want some?" She tried the bright red curry on the ring around the lobster, feeling fire on her tongue. She hissed between pursed lips, sighing, feeling like she could let out a little fire tongue. Rough and biting, leaving a sweet aftertaste. Wonderful.

"I dislike spicy foods." The boyo said coldly, huffing, checking the amount of people that tried Sebastian's curry or went immediately after the delicate promise of the lobster.

"Wimpy." Mouser teased.

* * *

"Sorry to keep you waiting." The announcer came back to the stage, commanding attention. The excited buzz of the crowd started once again as they flocked back, murmuring, comparing the tastes they sampled. The Royal Warrant at stake made the whole contest something extremely exciting for the beau monde. The chefs were back on the platform as were the judges, the prize displayed, a small statuette, more symbolic than anything. What they truly desired was the paperwork.

West was humming with anticipation a few steps away from them the cane he held moving like a pendulum.

The prince was nervously twisting his scarf.

The boyo was as cold as ever, staring.

"After much debate... the winner of this curry show is..." Pause for dramatic effect. "Harold West Company and Funton Company. A tie..." The announcement was unexpected, creating a sudden silence of disbelief. Amongst the shocked faces, the anticipation, the gasps of the crowd a slithering sound caught Mouser's attention, making her turn sharply, hands sliding inside her sleeves, grasping the daggers. A whip was curled around the prize, pulling it towards a man clad in a white uniform and a riding mask. She relaxed a fraction. He carried the insignias of the crown, the same she had grown used to see in the letters the Queen sent to the boyo.

"Please wait." He said in a calm voice as the crowd jumped away, frightened, opening a ring around the new arrival. "The victor..." the sound of hooves echoed, the horse that appeared behind him knocking him to the ground with a loud thud. A kindly but regal looking old lady in a riding dress was pulling the reins, calming the animal.

"Who is that funky old gran?" Bard whispered, adjusting his beaten leather cap.

"That is..." Lau began carefully, hand touching his chin, thoughtfully.

Mouser shook her head, looking around sharply. She had seen that face in paintings, right next to the patronesses, used to fool the rich ladies into believing Mrs. Packard followed the Queen's doctrine. But what if the boyo hadn't been the target of that white haired not-human? What if his goal had been to reach higher? He said purify the world...

"Your Majesty!" The boyo was recovered enough to talk, taking his hat off as sign of respect, walking towards the fidgety horse. And that woman ruled a very large chunk of said world... "Why have you come here?"

"Hello everyone." Queen Victoria seemed surprised to see him but smiled pleasantly, taking of the ridding goggles. The surprise seemed mutual within the crowd, everyone scrambling to curtsy or show respect.

"I am done talking but it seems her majesty has something to say." The man under the horse's hoof said, straightening a bit, getting up slowly to help the Queen dismount.

"Thank you John." Victoria said pleasantly, adjusting her attire with a few pats, looking around, eyes clear. "This curry show was indeed exciting." She appraised, walking towards the stage, the crowd parting in awe, accompanied by bows and whispers of awe. "The fragrance permeating the air reminds me of the curry me and Albert shared in White Island..." She opened a pocket watch, stopping for a moment, staring lovingly into it before crumpling to the floor, sobbing, surprising everyone. "Oh Albert..."

"Majesty please pull yourself together..." Her aide was immediately by her side, trying to comfort the Queen, pulling out a hand puppet in the likeness of the deceased king, using a deeper voice, making it move. "I want to eat curry with you also..." The puppet said, seemingly bringing some comfort to the Queen.

"Her Majesty seems to be a rather complex character..." Lau appraised softly, smiling as the show continued.

"Don't talk like that." The boyo intervened. He also looked slightly mystified but was not going to say anything against the woman he owed loyalty to.

"As I received an invitation to be one of the contest's judges I get one vote do I not?" The Queen dabbed at her moist eyes with a delicate handkerchief, coughing politely to settle her emotions before announcing in a pleasant but powerful voice, uttering the words that would break the tie. "I have chosen... Funtom Company's butler, Sebastian." She took the prize from her aide's hands, walking towards Sebastian, gifting him with the statuette, smiling. "This is for you."

Angi was silent in his shock.

West was loud and angry, rushing towards the Queen.

"Why?"He demanded, close to whining. "How can the curry we made loose to a doughnut stuffed with curry." It was a derisive question while still trying to boost his worth. Still it was quite out of place to demand explanations from the Queen.

"Please look over there." The Monarch deigned to answer despite the tone. "Do you see?" Happy children carrying the curry bread. Sad children being scolded for spilling the colourful curries and staining their fancy gowns. "Funton's curry requires no utensils and can be consumed by anyone. It is a method that takes the children into account." The Queen answered softly, looking at her people with care. "Everyone is happy. The rich, the poor, the adults the children. As equals. That is the quintessential idea for Britain as the new century approaches. I highly approve of Funtom taking into account our future, the children." She turned and opened her arms, smiling, announcing loudly her verdict. "Thus the victor is Funtom Company."

"How can this be?" West was mumbling, dejected, fallen to his knees.

Mouser smirked and glanced at Agni's shock, trying to see what would he do next.

"Nice work Sebastian!" Bard cheered.

"Typical of him..." Meyrin whispered, blushing a bit.

"You should try some too Young Master..." Finny turned to the boyo, offering one of the breads.

The boyo just groaned without taking it, glancing at the stage, eye narrowed, trying to gauge where the idea had come from.

"Congratulations chef Sebastian. Could I have a few words?" The announcer picked up on cue, turning to Sebastian.

"I am no chef. I am one hell of a butler." The demon answered with a smile.

It didn't take long now for the crowd to disperse, the contest over, the prize given and the whole exhibit still offering exotic sights and baubles. Some other events were also starting, taking the attention away from the previous happenings.

"I... Lost..." Agni was still shocked, dumbfounded. The terms of his agreement had not been met, which meant all his efforts had been lost, turned to smoke. Speaking of smoke... Mouser frowned, tapping her heel. No reticule, no cigarettes, no authorization to smoke in there for that matter.

"Mr. Agni, wasn't it?" The Queen approached the Indian softly, smiling, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. "Your curry's flavour did not lose. It was also a curry I would like to enjoy at the White Tower." The reasons for her choice had been derived not from personal taste but from the reasons that should concern the head of the empire.

"I am not worthy of such words..." Agni bowed humbly

"The Royal Warrant..." West was mumbling, in utter shock, having his dreams ripped away from his grasp.

"My Lord..." A female voice rose suddenly, an Indian woman running towards West, expensive fabric fluttering around her as she moved, a whiff of exclusive perfume, jewels clattering softly, melodiously, a sad, worried look on her face.

"Meena?" Soma said suddenly, a happy disbelief in his voice, recognizing her, eyes wide in relief and hope.


	21. Chapter 21

"Meena…"

"Prince Soma…" The woman turned away from West, facing the teen.

"I… I finally found you!" Soma called, happily, hugging the shocked woman tightly, close to tears of relief. "I've been looking for you for such a long time. You must have been so worried and frightened when you were kidnapped to England. You don't have to worry anymore. Let's go home together."

"Prince…" She pushed him away suddenly, the shock wearing away into a bitter, angry expression, glaring at the prince. "Are you some kind of idiot?" Meena stepped back, edging closer to West, raising her voice coldly. "Who the hell do you think you are, coming this far just to get in people's way." She huffed, hands on her waist, bracelets clinking harshly, the gold gleaming. "Go with you? Don't make me laugh." She looked away, her dark eyes cold and hard, mirroring a life that had left very little untouched. "Who would want to return to a place like that?"

"You were hiding this, weren't you?" Soma stuttered, shocked, realization hitting him, his posture growing limp and defeated.

"Sorry for not wanting to live my whole life bound by my social class. I even took great pains to sneak out of India." A gold-digger one with aspirations, expensive tastes and a mean disposition. Mouser arched an eyebrow, identifying the sort easily. Most of the maids and valets that would sell their hirer's secrets were that kind of person. Higher or lower all had a price, or an emotion that could be used to obtain what the blackmailer wanted.

"Then you wanted… with West…" Soma looked at the man behind his former nanny, starting to understand a bit more of a world he had not seen until that moment.

"That's right." She preened, looking proud of the result of her scheme. "Even a child could understand what is better. A rich wife or a servant." She glared at the prince, flicking her hair, arms going around West. "I'm sick of looking after a selfish master."

Agni wept, the defeat, the broken promises, the dashed trust weighting on his mind. It was obvious what kind of deal had been made between Agni and West for the Prince's sake.

"So that was why." Soma whispered, shaking his head, walking towards Agni, his eyes moist and soft. "Sorry." He whispered to his manservant, making him look up, confused. "We were that close and I did not understand her feelings." Soma walked to Agni, leaning, placing one hand on his shoulder. Then he turned to Meena, serenely "I am sorry for never thinking about being a bother and chasing you all the way to England." The prince flinched a bit but faced Sebastian nonetheless, walking past the woman he had crossed half the world to rescue. "And… thanks for everything until now. Until now… I always blamed other people. Being alone in the castle was my parent's fault. Meena leaving was West's fault. But I was wrong. Even though I was gnawing at my parent's ankles I did nothing but complain. There's no one who would love a brat like that." He sighed softly, turning back to Agni, smiling kindly. "But you stayed on my side even though we were separated. I've given you nothing but trouble until now. Will you stay and be my khanasama Agni?" He asked softly.

Agni's tears changed, his tight expression loosening, the burden simply fading.

"Jo Ajha" The Prince's khanasama said, bowing.

Mouser smiled slightly, glancing at the discreetly retreating figures of West and Meena. Lau was smiling and nodding. RanMao was chewing on a last piece of curry bread. She caught the Chinese's glance and smiled. Good. She wasn't the only one thinking about it.

"It seems somehow everything ended up for the best, wouldn't you say..." The Queen had been watching the scene unfold with quiet curiosity. She was smiling, clapping in calm acceptance. "Isn't that good… boy?" She spoke chuckling. Mouser glanced at Queen Victoria suddenly. That was such a motherly tone to use and… boy. The thief smiled. The other servants also seemed to find the moniker hilarious much to the boyo's dismay.

"Your Majesty I humbly requested you stop referring to me that way." He almost shouted at the Queen, flustered, gesturing hard.

"Is that so?" She chuckled, covering her mouth with a glove. "But you'll always be a cute little boy to me." The Queen added playfully.

"Your Majesty…" Ciel managed to put the trio in order after a quick bout of discipline. Mouser kept hidden behind him to avoid any sort of retaliation. "Why did you come all the way out here today?" He managed to finally ask, top hat in hand, looking humble.

"I was at St. Sophia University's choir concert." The Queen explained, still smiling, still looking as though she was full of life and hope. "But when I heard your company was coming to the curry contest I had to come and see you. You only send letters and never come visit after all." At that she took on the appearance of a granny, a normal woman scolding her child. Ciel was not softened, looking down.

"Someone like me shouldn't be around your Majesty too often." The Earl of Phantomhive admitted calmly.

"Please don't say such things." The Queen placed a gentle hand on his cheek, looking kindly at him. "You are still young but you perform your duty so seriously, just like your father Vincent. Besides that it has been such a long time since I've come to the Crystal Palace." She looked around, walking a bit, the skirts rustling. "It seems like only yesterday that Albert and I were here for the opening ceremonies… Aaaaaalbert…" Victoria fell back into her sobbing mood.

Cue puppet. Her aide was immediately at her side, using the toy to calm the Queen.

"I wish I were here today too…" John Brown said through the puppet, until the Monarch was recovered.

"Oh dear… I must be leaving soon." John brought the horse back and helped the Queen onto the saddle. "I'll have the Grand Chamberlain's office send you the authorization documents for the Royal Warrant. I'm looking forward to eating curry bread in the Royal Salon as well." She pulled the reins and dashed off, waving "You have fun now boy. "

John Brown stayed behind for a moment, earning a slight glance from the boyo.

"Shouldn't you be going too?" Ciel mentioned. The man seemed startled before breaking into a run, following the woman he served, leaving the ear shaking his head. "She's the same as always." He muttered to himself, placing the top hat back on his head.

"Ciel." Soma approached solemnly, Agni close by. Lau and RanMao were missing. "Thank you for winning. You have my gratitude." The prince placed his palms together and bowed slightly.

"It was not for you. It was for my own sake." The boyo repeated. "But your babysitter coming back was killing two birds with one stone. He shrugged despite the grateful look Agni was beaming his way.

"Ciel… if I had never come to England I probably wouldn't have learned all sorts of truths." Soma continued, caught in a net of growth. "If I had never met Ciel I would still be ignorant of the ways of the world. From now on I want to learn all sorts of things and become a great man. I won't lose to anyone. I'll show you. " The Prince was now showing off, looking excited and ready to move on.

Mouser chuckled, shaking her head.

"If you just say it, it won't happen." Ciel said dourly.

"If I say it, it will happen!" Soma rebutted, arms shaking, going for a hug which the boyo was trying hard to avoid.

"My, my… how bustling…" Sebastian walked down from the stage, joining the commotion, immediately hugged and pampered by the trio.

"Sebastian!" Meyrin clapped. "Congratulations!"

"How do you want to celebrate?" Bard was saying, patting the butler's back hard, chuckling. "We should celebrate!" Finny was dancing with the trophy being scolded by Bard as soon as the cook saw. Sebastian disentangled and got away, surprised when Agni stood in front of him before kneeling down.

"Sebastian… I wonder how I should apologise for this, for everything..." The Indian began, contrite.

"Mr. Agni. There is no need for that kind of thing." Sebastian spoke warmly, crouching to the other man's level, offering one gloved hand. "Please raise your head."

"At first I regretted accompanying the prince to England. But now…" Agni looked around. Smiling faces, a prince willing to grow… "I think it was a very good thing. We both have learned a lot from you all. I feel I must thank you somehow. "

"You have been apologising from the beginning. I fought for my own reasons and you fought for yours. That's all there is to it. There is nothing to thank me for." Sebastian stressed his selfishness once again before continuing, closing the issue. "The goddess Kali you believe in and Shiva realized their faults through their mutual pain just as you two are doing now. Ah… the sun is already setting." The butler said, as if just now noticing, turning to the Phantomhive household. "Shall we go home?" He gave them some time to gather, Agni walking silently next to him. "And as they say «no pain no gain»." Sebastian added, glancing at the boyo. Mouser smiled, rolling her eyes. Enough time had passed now…

"To have the philosophy of my country explained to me by an Englishman…" Agni chuckled conversationally. "It's a little embarrassing."

"It has nothing to do with England or India. No matter where or when it's the same." The demon stopped, turning towards the group, smiling slightly, the bloody red sunset glowing through the glass panels behind him. "Humanity that is." He added.

"That's right. The evening sun as seen from the banks of the Ganges… the sunset in England… it has the same beauty." Agni nodded, seeing nothing behind his words, accepting their face value and the clear meaning.

"Meeenaaaa!" Soma began to sob suddenly having grabbed Ciel in a death-grip hug. Agni smiled slightly, hands clasped.

"It's good we came to England. Both the prince and I were able to make good friends." He continued as the servants swooped in an tried to comfort the prince while the boyo seemed interested only in escaping, struggling like a fish out of water.

"Friends, is it? It's the first time anyone said that to me." Sebastian noticed with a bit of shock, showing then a simple calm smile as he watched Agni move in to pry the Young Master free.

"That touched you." Mouser whispered embracing Sebastian softly, relieved the day was coming to an end and that no other disasters had struck. The demon nodded slightly, caressing her cheek before she parted from him. "I'll be home soon." Mouser said, sneaking away.

* * *

"Damn it! They spoiled my plans…" West was shouting angrily, like a child in the middle of a tantrum, slumped against a brick wall on the alleys, face covered by the expensive gloves, out of view. The sunset was low enough for the area to be shrouded in a purplish shadow.

"Cheer up… there is always next time." Meena was trying to soothe him seeing that he still had enough money and status to be of some further use. He had enough to buy her kindness. The wife had crouched down, patting his knee softly, the skirts spread around her. Neither of them seemed aware of the possibility of a mugger or worse being close by.

"Yes, yes." Lau's voice came from the narrow entry of the alleyway, eyes still closed, giving him a calm and blissful air while he approached. The smile he was wearing on the other hand was one that he had rarely shown the boyo but that was known and feared throughout the Underworld. "Always next time." He mused, gesturing, the sleeves dangling casually. "Thank you for your hard work." He praised with a quick clap.

"You are?" West stood. Meena stood. Both faced him, unaware of the little shadow that was approaching from the other side of the narrow street.

Lau shrugged, opening his arms. He had been there all the time. His features, outfit and RanMao had been flashy enough to be seen. And yet West had seen nothing beyond the Earl's fancy title and rich clothes. But it was not something he took much offence in.

"The Earl said that there is no point going after the small fires but someone who tries something once will try it again. Letting them go… that sort of thing is going too easy." Lau chuckled, opening his eyes. Cold and merciless. A lot of people had seen them. Most of them were dead. Others attributed the iciness to the opium, being too drugged to separate the reality from their smoke-dreams. Others were simply not surprised that the representative of the Chinese crime world was such a cruel creature. "Well that's the boy's cute point though. I've got to exterminate the bad rats infesting my city. So I keep a cat." RanMao slammed Chinese decorative clubs to the ground, splintering cobblestone. Then she attacked. "Meow." Lau chuckled, raising a closed hand, mimicking the feline, glancing to his left, to another alley as his assassin took care of the annoyances. "And nowadays so does the Earl. Isn't that right little kitty?" He asked playfully.

Mouser huffed, lighting a stolen cigarette, leaning against the wall, walking out, staring at the soon to be corpses and then at the closed windows around. It would take some time for them to be found and reported. They were also very mangled, still twitching, a low groan or whine coming out of them. She blew smoke into the air casually.

"It seems you dealt with it before I could." She noted. Lau moved near her, patting her head like she was RanMao. She shook his hand away, clicking her tongue in annoyance. "I'll let the boyo know you are helpful."

Letting someone like that live was a mistake. Spiteful and petty.

People like that would always stab each other on the back.

It was just a matter of time.

One thing they were quick to learn on the streets was to just let them die. Or kill them. Whatever worked best.

So she had thought about taking the root of future problems away. Finding them, following, waiting till they were home and then making it look like a burgle job gone badly awry. Stolen valuables, broken furniture, murdered owners, blood everywhere, a couple of shots fired to make it look like there had been some struggle, the whole picture painted properly and primly for the servants to find.

Lau seemed to have thought roughly the same although method veered towards a vengeance or payback due to the state of the bodies and the still present baubles. Maybe by the time they were found some scavengers would have absconded with the glittering jewels.

The Chinese's original intentions were more on the selfish side, to protect his own status on the street and climb a slight notch on the favours to the boyo. Never a bad time to get on his good graces he often said.

"And I appreciate it." Lau waved her goodbye, walking back towards his East End den.

Mouser glanced at the corpses, noticing the cinematic records leaving in thin black and white stripes, showing glimpses of their past, their schemes, floating upwards, disappearing into some sort of blade. A Grim Reaper was standing on the rooftop, looking down with those gold-and-green eyes wearing a prim and pristine dark suit. Not Grell then. Too bad she could use another supernatural entity to ask questions to. Mouser smirked for him and walked away, slipping her hands into the sleeves.

* * *

The ambient of the kitchen was heavy with cigar smoke, the coils of silver moving lazily against the flickering light of a gas lamp and the scent of alcohol. Bard was chomping down on his cigarette, slightly nervous, staring at the cards occasionally taking a swig of cheap whiskey. Mouser balanced her cigarette in a smug smirk, fanning herself with the cards, the rum bottle next to her elbow.

"Woman you're ruthless." The cook threw his cards down in frustration wearing only his apron, the last piece of clothing he had been able to retain throughout the game.

"I had to follow through with my threats." Mouser poked the butt of the cigarette on the cracked clay ashtray, snuffing it out. Throughout the night she had taken his money, his weapons, the stashes of ammo, some war memorabilia and his clothes. She had been cheating mercilessly, tilting the game to her side and getting him good and drunk in the process. Still as a former soldier Bard was hard to put under the table. "Now parade."

"I give." The man chuckled and stood carefully, fidgety. He dropped the apron and slammed it down, making the piles of trinkets and coins topple, defiant till the bitter end.

Mouser laughed and poured him the whiskey, covering her eyes with the cards. His physique was still that of a soldier. Undeniably he was handsome.

"Come on." She pushed the glass towards him. "A round for the naked guy."

Bard laughed too and downed it, sitting once again.

There was a sudden gasp and stutter from the entry.

Meyrin stood there, red faced, in her nightgown, staring. Mouser sipped her rum slowly, waiting for the explosion.

"B…B…B… Bard!" The maid shrieked suddenly, covering her eyes, hand on the lenses. The cook jumped and tried to cover himself, stuttering. Mouser laughed starting to gather the cards.

"Let's call it a night then…" She whispered as Bard managed to run off from the kitchen, hurriedly and embarrassed, leave a blushing maid behind. They might as well stop, the thief thought checking her watch. Nearly two… and they would be leaving for the Manor in the morning. Finny had gone to bed early, tired and exited, talking non-stop about seeing Pluto again. Mouser also felt a bit of need to see Pluto and try again to take that collar away from its furry neck. Oddly enough neither Finny's massive strength nor her claws had been able to pry the thing away when they tried, after the dolls' incident. Mouser hadn't asked Sebastian and because nothing had come of it she had nearly forgotten... but the voice and the threat… it was a dangling loose end that was bothering her. "Something you needed?"

"Water." Meyrin said softly, walking in a daze to the pitcher. "Why was Bard naked?"

"I made him gamble until he had nothing to bet but his clothes. And then I continued." Mouser lit another cigarette. They had been gambling from the moment the boyo's dinner had ended and the dishes were done. After she managed to pry herself out of the dress. The servants had questioned her a bit about why she hadn't returned with them to which Mouser simply answered that she had been running some errands for the boyo. "I'll return them in the morning though. I don't have the heart or the visual fortitude to watch him walk around naked in winter." She stood and stretched. "How's the chapter?"

Meyrin blushed again.

"I'll give it to you tomorrow." The evening paper where each week the next chapter of Mrs. Levant's adventures came out. It was Meyrin's turn to read it first. The _Wicked Dove_ it was called, about a woman that murdered and disposed of her husbands as soon as she felt unloved. Going by the crimson maid's expression the hunt for victim number four had been completed.


	22. Chapter 22

"You have three late invitations for Christmas soirées..." To add to a rather long list of refusals. A large amount of noble families chose to spend the holidays in quiet family time. But some of their young sons and daughters preferred the glitz and glamour of society. "And you might have to consider the Midford..." Mouser flipped through the last of the mail quickly, the rhythm of the coach under her sharp and quick as the distance to the manor shrunk.

Soma was quiet but very active, looking out each of the carriage's windows on his side, murmuring in awe at the white countryside, seemingly amazed by the white-powdered roadside. Everything in England should look quite foreign and exotic to the Indian prince. Then again that was what England thought of him.

Agni and Tanaka drove the second carriage with the servants and luggage.

Sebastian was in charge of the vehicle that was used to parade the boyo around town with all the symbols and heraldry.

"The note was penned calling on you as a family member." Mouser mentioned answering the discomfort the boyo was displaying. She snuggled deeper into her cape. Early winter morning, snowing… it was not good travelling weather. Most carriage drivers would either hesitate or ask for a great amount of currency before heading out to the outskirts. "There are nine New Year parties that ask for your attendance…"

"Already?" The boyo interjected, frowning. Christmas had not passed yet and they already wanted… the Earl shook his head in annoyance. Yes it was convenient to receive the confirmations ahead of time but still… "Anyone I must see?"

"Not necessarily. Two of them are from your business partners and I assume the invitations are just common courtesy. If they know you at all they won't be expecting anything but a negative." She smiled at his harsh frown. "The others are from social butterflies." Catch the prizes and brag about it over tea and crumpets.

"I'll have to tell aunt Frances I'm busy." Ciel pondered after a moment, tapping with his cane nervously.

"Suit yourself. I won't play any part on that." Mouser said, shrugging. Somehow she believed a pretty signed card would not cut it... She made more notes, the cabin quiet except for the occasional rustle of Soma's clothes.

"I... If it were you… well…" His voice faltered slightly, knowing it was somewhat out of character but... Elizabeth was his fiancée and family and he had not given her anything after her life had been threatened... And Christmas was a passable excuse for gift giving. "What should I give Lizzie?"

"Boyo… You won't like my answer." Mouser warned with a small smirk, placing the pen down, intertwining stained fingers. Still he was waiting for the reply with an inflexible frown. "You. Your physical presence at the family gathering and the Midford celebration. Preferably looking cute."

"I am busy." Ciel said defensively, staring at the letters.

"Right… come now boyo." Mouser clicked her tongue and stretched before bundling up again. "Let me take a stab at your Christmas plans. Wake up late because it is Christmas. Brood, brood, brood, glower, glower, glare at lunch, read. Pester Sebastian with sweet demands then…"

"Enough." The Boyo said coldly and with finality.

Mouser moved her ankle out of the way before he reached it with his cane tip, chuckling, locking it in her heel, shrugging and pulling the last letter out, handing it to the boyo unperturbed by the tugging underfoot.

"Lord Randall sends a note requesting a meeting."

"He must want to settle the latest incidents." He read it, crumpling it on a gloved fist and tossed the paper back at her. Mouser caught it with indifference, straightening and stuffing it back in the pile of mail. So he was over the awkward moment about his fiancée.

"Or just spew a few random insults." Mouser got the ledger from the business briefcase, opening it, uncapping her pen, scanning the slightly less crowded entrances. "When?"

"After Christmas." Even though he did not celebrate appearances should be kept so no rumour tainted his façade reputation. Nobility had its perks but a flawless image should be used at all times which limited one's ranged if they were not used to subterfuge and intrigue. Or were not as frightening as Marchioness Midford.

"Twenty seven… about six o'clock?" Mouser waited for his nod before penning it down. "Now… about the charity event... stop frowning." Mouser chuckled slightly at the sour glare she was receiving as she exchanged the paperwork needed. "I'm keeping you from having to make casual conversation." Her pen pointed towards the fascinated Soma. Not that the prince seemed to be in the mood to talk. Most likely he would wait until they arrived and then force the boyo to a question session and a guided tour of the manor. "Also you'll have some free time in today's schedule if you deal with these issues right now." Mouser picked up the newspaper after a few moments of grumbling and checking options. "I believe you will like this."

The boyo smirked smugly when the headline was within his sight. The front page was an article of praise for the Funtom Company, its curry and the achievement that was a Royal Warrant. To attract new investors there would be nothing as perfect as that. It had been a publicity stunt and next months revenues would prove its success. And it could be used when the foundations of the food sector of the Funtom company was ready to start its business.

* * *

Pluto was very exited to see them back, dashing towards Finny immediately, barking, howling and slobbering, fluffy fur further bleached by the snow, red eyes closed and tongue lolling. Just one happy pooch. The gardener boy hugged him and quickly subdued him before he jumped and upturned the carriages and spooked the horses any further, rubbing his tummy, giggling. Finny was quickly chastised by a fully clothed Bard, asked to help carry the luggage into the house. That did not dampen his happiness. He just giggled, letting go of the devil dog, telling him to sit. The devil dog obeyed, the tail tapping the ground till the snow was pressed or gone.

The boyo disappeared almost as soon as Soma opened his mouth.

That made the prince pout and give chase through the labyrinth of corridors that created the manor.

It would be a stroke of luck if he actually found Ciel.

Agni was ever so helpful in the procession of trunks, boxes and suitcases.

Meyrin, as soon as she had dropped her luggage in her room, went immediately towards the cleaning products closet and pulled out the broom, mop and feather duster. Rooms and linens needed to be aired out before being in suitable condition for the Young Master and guests. Then there was the dust that was bound to have collected...

Mouser hopped down from the carriage and looked around. The snow mostly undisturbed and there seemed to be no corpses littering the grounds. The house looked undamaged. So the guard dog had either worked well and hard or no one had targeted the empty house. Although no one had targeted the city house either.

"Sebastian…" The thief called quietly when he returned for another load. The demon did not stop, acknowledging her call with a hum. "Did you try to pry that collar loose even once?"

"It is locked with unearthly power." The demon supplied as he walked inside with an armload of luggage, unperturbed by her inquiry.

Pluto was the one locked so he could not pry himself free.

Mouser looked at the dog that was now being introduced to Soma and Agni, the prince returning after a failed attempt of tracking Ciel down. The devil dog's was tail wagging while Finny and then Soma scratched his neck.

The one that placed the seal would be the one that could remove it. Which meant the man that had been in the tower and then in the Exhibition. Or they had to get another devil dog.

Neither option was appealing or feasible.

So there was nothing to do about that issue but wait for disaster.

Mouser sighed, snuggled into her cape, picking up the documents from the cabin and went inside, walking into the library, stealing a dust cloth and broom from Meyrin. After a quick cleaning of the place she had to bunker down and pen all the letters to deny hostesses and hosts, hire the theatre company, book the theatre room, invite the charities, orphanages and nobles that would loosen their purses and talk to make others give money.

* * *

"Young Master." Sebastian got into the usual routine once again, opening the curtains, preparing and serving the tea while the bundled up boy groaned and peeked. "It's time to wake up." He called once more, pouring. "Today's tea is Harrod's White's Darjeeling." He walked towards the bed with the tea and the day's newspaper. Front page proclaimed and detailed the arrival or the Noah's Ark circus to London. And further in the charity play had its first announcement printed. "Looks like the Manor is settling down." Sebastian commented causally.

Christmas was gone. The servants had been given the day off as propriety and just a hint of generosity demanded. A monetary compensation had been added to their wages, as a gift. Meyrin had taken Finny to church. Bard grumbled but played escort. Mouser had spent it sleeping with a Peter Rabbit, the Young Master's present for her instead of money, dressed in a black waistcoat and a skull pin on its bowtie and bright red eyes snuggled in her arms. She was tired after experimenting with her budding demonic energies. Surprisingly Mouser had been able to feed him already.

The Young Master had also surrendered to sloth. Soma and Agni knew little to nothing about the holiday so they did not bother the Young Master. The Prince had also spent the day sleeping with Agni tending to his wishes.

"So it would seem." Ciel said simply, glancing at the nightstand. A sapphire and white gold brooch with the Phantomhive coat of arms, something that had been stolen three years ago, rested on the top of the wooden surface. Mouser's gift. She also used the Christmas as an excuse, claiming it was only gratitude.

"Boyo?" Mouser knocked on the door softly before entering. Her heels clicked on the floor lightly before she stepped on the carpet, holding a letter with the Queen's lacquered symbol. "This just arrived."

The boyo frowned, accepting it, opening it carefully.

"Circus tickets?" He spoke softly, confused as the pieces of printed paper were pulled out of the envelope. For the same circus that was announced on the newspaper.

"Couldn't it be a Christmas gift for a little boy?" Sebastian teased, smirking. Mouser grinned.

"I'll kill you both..." Ciel groaned in annoyance, glaring at the pair that made a living out of mocking the hell out him, slipping out of the covers, placing the letter down after only a quick scan and irritated face.

"Today's schedule." Sebastian asked, keeping the formality, getting the clothes and starting the dressing up ritual.

"Oh… right." Mouser frowned slightly, straightening. "Let me see…" She took a deep breath and started. "First is validating the new merchandise proposal. The dolls new collection, I believe. The updated cost estimate from Food Department and the Hindustani restaurant has arrived as well. In the afternoon you will have piano lessons with Mrs. Bright and French Lessons with Mrs. Rookin. And finally Lord Randall's visit at six. Afterwards we should all be free to discuss the Queen's mission."

Ciel nodded, still glancing occasionally towards the letter and the tickets inside as Sebastian helped him dress into a casual house suit. Something more formal would be prepared for the meeting later on.

Mouser looked up suddenly when the floorboards outside creaked, a stampede coming towards the room. Sebastian did a better job of hiding the sudden reaction to the sound.

"What would you like for today's snacks…" The butler was saying and Mouser walked a few steps back, cringing at the noise, before the door swung open, an exited Soma appearing, invading the sleeping quarters, grinning widely.

"Ciel!" The prince shouted, eyes sparkling in anticipation of mischief, going for a great hug.

"Shut up." Soma was kept away, the boyo pushing him back. Still the prince responded to the feeble attempt, stepping back, buzzing with pent up energy. Like a puppy. "Don't yell so early in the morning." Ironic that Ciel was shouting that back. "And when are you two going home to India?"

"Going home? What are you saying?" Soma looked around, confused. Then he stood taller and placed his hands on his hips. "I am staying in England for your sake. Didn't you say you didn't believe me when I said I'd become a great man? So I'm staying until I become one so I can show you."

Mouser chuckled and glanced at the door. Flawless logic there.

"Prince Soma?" Agni's smiling face peeked from the frame before the Indian walked in. "Here you are with Lord Ciel. You weren't in your room so I was wondering..."

That made Ciel shout again.

"What do you mean his room? I don't remember saying you could live here. Listen when other people are talking!"

The thief chuckled and extended a hand to Sebastian who sighed, looking put-upon. They chose to simply sneak out and move on with their daily duties.

* * *

"In any case…" Sebastian was finishing the lecture and the tasks distribution. "At six this evening Lord Randall will be visiting. We cannot do anything to cause embarrassment to the Young Master or Phantomhive House." Sebastian continued looking around. "Meyrin polish the banisters on the front stairway. Finny knock the snow from the trees in the courtyard. Bard please find a chicken for the soup for tonight's diner. Mr. Tanaka please take it easy. Mouser have the reports ready to be returned. Everyone please do the duties assigned to you is that clear? Do not waste your energy in other tasks." Sebastian paused suddenly, staring at the doorway. "Mr Agni?"

"Since I am also being a burden on this household please let me do something to help." The Indian walked him, bowing slightly offering his help without reserves. Sebastian frowned. Mouser leaned against the table, watching as the house staff moved, gathering what was needed for their tasks.

Finny walked out with a large broom, humming.

Bard had disappeared into the servant's quarters looking for a jacket for the frigid weather.

Meyrin was in the supply closet.

Tanaka was still in the kitchen, sipping tea.

"What about prince Soma?"

"He is… in a daze with everything here so I left him in the library." Agni supplied happily. Note for the boyo: Avoid the library room. Still he was mostly out of the Young Master's way.

"Well would you be willing to clean the windows? Since you're taller than me after all." Sebastian asked after a moment of silence.

"Of course. Leave it to me." Agni agreed eagerly, joining Meyrin in gathering cleaning utensils.

Sebastian sighed, looking around.

"Can you keep things controlled here while I deal with the dog?" He asked. Mouser shrugged.

"As much as possible." She checked his clock. The boyo should be finishing his breakfast.

* * *

"I can't reach…" Finny was growling in effort. A sudden yelp and a crash made Mouser glance through the window, her attention dragged away from the tedious documents she was forced to review with the boyo. "Ah it fell down…" Finny was jumping around frantic. "What should I do. Sebastian is going to be mad again…" he bawled. Mouser sighed and stood, reaching for the latch.

"Boy! What's wrong?" Agni? Mouser opened the window and peeked. The Indian was hopping out of the window he had been working on, walking towards the gardener, smiling while he listened to his sobs and explanation. "If that's the problem you should speak up." Finny was suddenly hoisted onto Agni's shoulders. "How's this? You can reach right?"

"So tall!" Finny giggled, swatting the tree with the broom, making the snow fall and pile around the trunk. "I don't know my own strength and I keep making mistakes. Trees are living things so we should treat them kindly. " He was prattling happily. Mouser smiled and looked back at the lines of math and English, bored once more, still picking up the conversation.

"Treat them kindly?" Agni asked, the rustle of his clothes telling her he had placed the gardener boy down.

"Before I came here I don't think I would have understood." Finny whispered quietly. Then he laughed. "But now I feel like I can do it."

"By the way how did you become a gardener?"

"A little more than a year ago I was picked up by the young Master." Mouser frowned. The way he behaved… she could have sworn he had been there for more than that.

"Picked up?" The expression had Agni baffled. Finny barely noticed.

"Before I couldn't go outside like this. Now it's so fun… I can do it everyday. I can touch trees and bugs and people… but at first it was scary. It was really hard for me to touch something without breaking it…"

His strength… Mouser sighed. He was a bit self conscious. To be honest from time to time she felt that way too. Her nails sliced things easily and her strength grew to the point that she felt that she could crush a rock to fine powder with little effort. Sebastian eased that tension as she knew he could take whatever she delivered and showed her how to adjust the pressure to the material she was handling. Still it was baffling to throw a punch and, as he dodged, see a fist sized dent on a granite wall, both her skin and bones barely hinting the blow.

"Boy? What is it?" Agni shouted when Finny screamed. Mouser peeked again.

"We forgot the other side!" The gardener said, clasping his gloved hands to his head.

"How careless…" Agni laughed, good natured.

Mouser shook her head, her eyes going immediately to the figure in black that approached from the edged of the Phantomhive lands. Sebastian was not looking pleased. The thief stood, placing the documents down. The boyo glanced at her, also bored but working diligently.

"I'll get you some tea. Also could you double check this entry…" Mouser pulled another report out of the briefcase, opening and pointing to the specific lines. "It has been happening for a couple of months now… I think one of your factory bosses is embezzling."

* * *

Mouser helped Sebastian out of his dog fur tainted clothes with nary a comment, having another set of his prim uniform out. It was a bit of pampering for him, seeing that he had to dress and undress a bratty boyo every day. Then there were the perks of staring at his mostly naked form. She settled on the bed, legs crossed, eyeing him greedily but lazily. Sebastian had a smirk on his lips as his sleekly muscled form disappeared within the black and white fabric of the layers of clothes. Playing valet for her was all about the ogling and teasing.

"Anything happened?" The butler asked as they left the room.

"Quiet day so far. I'm taking a break and I promised tea to the boyo." She paused and yawned.

"Tired?" he noticed, reducing his stride's width.

"You can be incredibly demanding." Mouser chuckled, smiling without complaint, as they approached the kitchen, Bard's voice echoing clearly as he grumbled..

"Ah… what a bother… separating the bones from the meat… take way too long. And there are guests coming… I'll add the chef's special touch." There was a sudden metallic click as they neared the doorway, a whoosh of air and the scent of flame. Mouser's eyes widened suddenly. Sebastian pulled her against him, sidestepping the explosion that blasted out of the opening, pressing her body against a wall solid, covered by his.

"Chef! Are you all right?" Agni's voice called through the thick smoke that covered the corridor and was likely thickest within the kitchen.

"Flamethrower?" Mouser whispered against Sebastian's shirt, clutching him.

"I'll have to lecture him about the toys that should be used to defend the manor and not while cooking." The butler groaned, leaning down, resting his head against hers, sighing, put upon.

"I used a little too much fire power so a bunch of stuff got scorched too." Bard was laughing in an apologetic way. Agni was moving within the kitchen, the sounds of pots, pans and cleaning reaching the pair in the corridor.

"Chicken Gala Soup tastes better if you boil it slowly." Agni was saying, the sound of a sweeping broom whispering through the air, accompanied by the clatter or window's latches and the creak of the panels opening.

"I know that in my head." Bard retorted. Over the burnt scent the click of a lighter and the scent of tobacco traced a new layer. "But before I came here I never cooked eaten slowly."

"Going fast means making mistakes." Agni chastised without anger in his voice. Seemed more like a sad recommendation, a tired counsel.

"I've gotta get used to it. This feeling of peace." Bard's voice acquired a bit sadder undertone.

"Chef…"

"Kidding. Let's get this place cleaned up and start the cooking again. You should go back to your job too."

"I'll help you tidy up."

"No way. You're supposed to be where you're supposed to be. Protecting that place is your job."

Mouser sighed and looked up, pecking Sebastian's lips, trying to call him back and ease the frown that darkened his eyes.

"Let me go now. I'll use the secondary kitchen to make the tea."

"Go back to the Young Master. I'll deliver the tea momentarily." Sebastian said, stepping back, walking away.

Mouser shook her head and chuckled. Oh that jealousy…

* * *

"To make it shiny all I have to do is wax…" Meyrin was humming to herself while sweeping the rag over the wooden surface, seeing nothing wrong with the movements.

"Miss Maid!" Agni shouted suddenly, startling her, making her land, rump first on the wide step, looking around, fiddling with the askew glasses. Then she noticed it.

"AH! I did it again…" In the pale wintry light the wood was noticeably darkened. Meyrin frantically made a grab for the cylindrical can she had picked from the closet. "I mistook the shoe polish for the wax…" She blabbered as Agni joined her with clean rags. They started to wipe the polish away, hopping it hadn't stained the wooden surface already.

"It does seem your eyes are bad." Agni said kindly, satisfied with the progress. Behind the lenses she seemed to betraying hard to focus.

"I am extremely far-sighted." Meyrin smiled and continued with the task. "And these glasses don't really fit anymore." She sighed.

"Then why don't you ask for a new pair…"

"No… these are my precious glasses that the young master bought for me. These maid outfit as well. Before I came here I had never worn anything like a skirt. I am so happy I'm a maid now…" She leaned back, clutching the skirt. "Mouser said I'm being silly. That if I asked for a new pair it would still be the young master's gift but…"

"It seems like everyone here really loves this manor." Agni smiled and resumed his help. Sebastian frowned and walked away. It was still amazing how Agni could make the servants work properly. And it was still amazingly grating.

* * *

Darkness was falling fast. So it was time for the last details. Lights were lit, everything was clean, everything was presentable. Fresh flowers from the greenhouse were displayed, embroidered linens were shows, the plates and silverware had been chosen and polished. The boyo had bathed and been dressed and was reading in the library. Soma was fascinated by the toys in the game's room.

"What did you just say?" Agni asked suddenly, stopping, staring at Sebastian.

Mouser placed the documents on a side table in the dining room and looked around. The two butler were setting the table. The warm fire was crackling and the room had the scent of spices and flowers. No hint of smoke from either the chimneys nor the earlier kitchen explosion.

"When the guests arrive and remain within the manor would you please stay in your room?" Sebastian repeated.

"Why?" Agni asked in shock.

Sebastian continued the mechanical gestures of table setting.

"The guest is the commissioner from Scotland Yard, Lord Randall. He is the lead investigator in the Anglo-Indian incidents." Two sets of cutlery and crockery on that end of the table, one set on the other side. Candles and a floral arrangement in the centre of the table. The pictures were straight, the chairs had no flaws.

"Could it be that he's come to capture me?" Agni asked a bit agitated.

"Of course not." Sebastian dismissed the situation stepping back as well, giving a last appraising look to his finished task. "He does not know the identity of the culprit of those incidents. Please calm yourself."

"But even though I was acting on orders those were entirely my fault." Agni's hands were tangled, gripping and letting go, nervously. "Shouldn't I be punished properly to make up for my sins?"

"If you were not here what would happen to Prince Soma? Will you break your promise to stay by Prince Soma's side?" Sebastian used what would be the most convincing argument in his arsenal.

Mouser glanced outside. Open curtains or closed… Stare into the darkness or claustrophobia for the guests?

"But..." Agni tried once again.

"Everything is over and the incidents won't occur again." Sebastian cut him before he could start. "Leave the rest to us and stay in your room. Is that all right?" He softened the tone.

Agni nodded and then walked away. Mouser pursed her lips.

"His conscience is going to nag him. He's going to interfere." Sebastian nodded in agreement. Still it could go either way.

* * *

"You travelled a great distance." Sebastian greeted the guests as they walked out of the carriage. It was not snowing but the wind was picking up and night was growing colder.

"What a great manor..." Detective Aberlain was looking around, in awe, holding his bowl hat to keep it from dragging it away.

"Don't praise them and stop looking around." Lord Randall was as sour as ever as he stepped out of the cabin, barely glancing up. Mouser closed the doors behind them, waiting. "I didn't even want to come to this devil's lair." The man continued, looking around. The faint candlelight added to a slight sense of ominous.

"Then I shall call my master so please wait here for a moment..." Sebastian was headed for the side door, closing it almost immediately, his face going into a blank polite look. Mouser bit her lip. Last she'd seen that the Marchioness had almost found out the rose massacre. The pair from the Yard on the other hand was distracted.

"Mr. Agni what's going on? You should be out of sight." Sebastian was saying sternly at the door, keeping a firm hand on the doorknob. Mouser groaned as rubbed her forehead.

"I've thought about it many times since we spoke. And I think I should turn myself in." Agni's voice was muffled.

Mouser began to walk on her tiptoes towards the stairs. Then she sped up, opening the door of the study, grabbing the boyo by the scruff and dragging him out, leaving him before turning the last corner.

"Listen to me. If you give yourself Prince Soma will react foolishly and that would cause problems for the Young Master. Do you understand?" Sebastian was saying when she arrived on the bottom of the stairs, the boyo walking out, staring down at the pair of arrivals, clearing his throat before speaking up.

"Well, well Lord Commissioner." Ciel Phantomhive's tone dripping of condescendence. Mouser pursed her lips and glanced at the demon, sighing. "Welcome to the Phantomhive Manor. Preparations for diner have been completed. Come this way." Ciel continued, walking down the stairway and gesturing towards the corridors. Mouser smirked, relieved by the recovery and accompanied.

"Please behave yourself and stay out of sight." Sebastian said again, following, tailing the group, closing the doors behind their passage. Mouser on the other side of the party opened them.

"The truth is you probably don't want to dine with me." Ciel was saying, still smugly walking through his halls. "But since it's traditional you came anyway. It's rare you brought someone with you... is Aberlain your successor? You're arriving at that age aren't you."

"If you stopped appearing at crime scenes he would still know nothing." Lord Randall grated out.

"I don't particularly care if he knows or not." Ciel shrugged. Sebastian dashed back suddenly. Everyone looked back, surprised.

"My apologies. The door was open." He bowed slightly. Mouser closed her eyes, whimpering. Oh dear…

"Repair it if it cannot shut properly." The boyo noticed finally what was happening, teeth grinding.

"Yes." Sebastian said out loud as the group moved on. "Agni..." His tone was growing darker and annoyed not even lessened by whispering.

"If I carry on like this I will disappoint my god..." Agni was saying, desperately.

"Please watch your actions." The demon asked again, harshly.

Mouser closed the door this time to muffle Agni's voice.

Sebastian would catch up soon.

"Such a magnificent corridor and these paintings..."

The conversation amongst guests and host was helping in disguising the events but still…

"He actually uses such morbid paintings for decor. Really this is a devil's nest." Lord Randall was not letting go of his animosity.

Aberlain was impressed. The boyo was impressed that he actually knew the titles, the names, the times. That he appreciated the art and its meaning. Ciel smirked and used the amazement of the detective to further needle the Commissioner. Succession, age, incompetence. The easy targets. Lord Randall in his arrogance took the bait, downplaying Aberlain's credits.

Sebastian breezed in, closing the curtains, blocking Agni who seemed to have moved his chase to the outside.

"Everyone... this way please. Diner will be ready soon." Mouser called after a quick eye contact with Sebastian, walking into another hall with four double doors, the chandelier illuminating the area.

Soma's voice came suddenly from the upper floor. Sebastian vanished. And next thing they knew all was black. Mouser noticed Agni standing in the doorway, felt the scent of the night air. Maybe he had broken a window to get in. It mattered not. So she moved too, pushing him to the ground, grabbing Sebastian's rope as he ran to her side and helping him with quick knots, tossing Agni into a hidden corner, behind the closed half door. Quickly she handed him her lighter while kicking the last of the chopped candles into the same place.

"My apologies." The trio of light of a candelabrum illuminated the area. "It seems the lights went out."

"The wind or something Sebastian?" Ciel asked, the cane tapping, slightly nervous. Or annoyed. His face was a blank for the guests. Aberlain looked utterly spooked. Lord Randall was still angrily glaring around, disciplining his subordinate.

"Yes. Not the wind. Or something indeed. Let us move on to the dining room." He gestured, guiding them through the faint candlelight.

* * *

Finally everyone was seated behind closed doors in a quiet dining room.

As tradition stated business before pleasure Ciel started, Mouser and Sebastian behind his chair.

"Now then. As everyone has settled down shall we move on to the main topic?" The Earl asked. Sebastian picked up a silver platter and went to Lord Randall. Mouser waited until he was returning to walk to the Scotland Yard and placing the purloined reports next to the Commissioner's elbow. He barely reacted. He also had to pretend nothing had ever been stolen from his subordinates.

"That's right. I never want to visit this eerie dog house." The man was grumbling as Ciel opened the envelope and checked its contents, smirking.

"Well then it was this degree of case?" He considered staring at the bank note.

"That's..." Aberlain was shocked enough to forget etiquette and stand up, staring.

"The successor does not know yet?" Ciel smiled a bit too openly and slouched back on his chair. "The Commissioners have been used by the Queen for ages. He brings the treats to the doghouse." He was having a kick out of the dog metaphor wasn't he? "To sum it up the Phantomhives are a secret committee that carries out special duties. Because of that we cannot be rewarded by the national funds. So the Scotland Yard is in charge of providing such treats. Think of it as a police dog."

"But that's... like bribe money."

"Not like. It is genuinely bribe money. It is a long standing tradition." Ciel shrugged. It was just the way things were done in the Underworld. "Now to commemorate today's settlement of the case I've prepared some champagne." Sebastian fetched the bottle, presenting it properly, slightly tilted, ready to be opened. "Won't you celebrate with me?"

"But the culprit..." Aberlain was confused by his sense of justice.

"Enough Aberlain. If Her Majesty and the Phantomhive say it's over then... the culprit no longer exists." Lord Randall declared, knowing how it worked. How it always had worked.

The doors were opened loudly.

"The truth about the case..." Agni stood there, shouting, pieces of broken rope dangling from his frame.

It was not every day one could see that look of shock in the boyo's face. Mouser covered her face with her palm, groaning. A loud pop echoed to her right, the champagne opened, the cork hitting Agni squarely in the throat, making her wince as she peeked at the events. It made the Indian fall backwards, voiceless. Sebastian caught the cork on the rebound, smirking before placing a concerned mask.

"My apologies. Are you all right?"

But before that could end another disasters struck.

"I'm hungry... before they find me I could..." Soma wandered into the room mumbling, stopping, eyes widening. "Who are these people?"

Mouser closed her eyes again.

"Please lie fast boyo." She whispered. Because she would let them go to the chokey as fast as they could blink as long as she escaped. Well… she might break them out after. But still her skin came first.

"They're Indians?" Lord Randall was saying, surprised.

"Lord Randall I apologise for the fuss." Ciel hand waved the incident. The attention was on him once again. "These two are Prince Soma of Bengal and his servant Agni. They're good friends and are staying here while they study the English culture."

"Ciel! You admitted! You really think of me as a friend." Soma jumped into a hug, laughing merrily.

"To settle this incident you also went through many difficulties. Please let me offer this as congratulations." Sebastian covered those events serving the champagne, smiling. "Then for resolving a conflict once again... cheers." Mouser sighed as the flutes were raised, hoping for a break in the succession of disasters.

* * *

"I'm so very sorry." Agni was grovelling. "If Sebastian hadn't stopped me then..."

Ciel was sitting on a high back chair, looking furious, still keeping the black clad pair of demons on either side of him. Not one of them had a pleasant expression on.

"If you turned yourself in at a place I am not connected with I couldn't care less." They boyo was lecturing angrily, arms crossed. "As it is I would be caught in it too."

"That's right Agni. Don't trouble my friends." Soma scolded, not understanding that he was also a target of the Earl's wrath. "And you are forbidden from turning yourself in. That's an order."

"Jo ajna." Agni bowed and started to smile, little by little.

Mouser groaned. Sebastian rolled his eyes to the side, frowning. Ciel made an exasperated sound. Why hadn't they thought of that little exchange before?

"Now let's go to bed." Soma finished, at ease.

"Fine." The boyo seemed to have remembered something else. "I'll let you stay however people who don't work cannot stay."

"Work? Me? A prince working?" Soma frowned, surprised by the concept.

"Indeed. In return I will pay you. Money earned for your hard work." The boyo was smiling now. Mouser chuckled. Sneaky little boy… "You want to become a great man, free from your parents, correct?"

"That's right!" Soma stood, encouraged. "What should I do?"

"Let's see... how about managing my town house in London with Agni? It's a very difficult job. I would not ask of anyone else. Can you do it?" The boyo placed the last piece in game and leaned back, letting them celebrate.

"I'll do it! Leave it to me!" Soma was shouting, dancing about. They left finally, going to bed early and would be shipped away in the morning.

"Quite a splendid job of clearing things up Young Master." Sebastian praised, amused.

"I'll go to sleep too." The boyo complained, standing, tapping his cane in annoyance. "We'll discuss work tomorrow." He slammed the doors closed to the best of his ability, the steps fading away into the corridors.


	23. Chapter 23

_To my cute little boy:_

_Did you pass this year's Christmas enjoyably? I made a Christmas pudding with my Philip. It was a grand thing and even John and Grey praised it. Next time you will try it too, won't you? _

_Did you know that a travelling circus has come to London? In any case this time I have enclosed a ticket. It seems they are a troupe that has visited several places but somehow in each city they have performed in seems there have been incidents. Children have gone missing, simply disappeared._

_The government is searching to the best of its ability but the children's whereabouts are still unknown. Apparently the children just disappear suddenly in the middle of the night. Really… it's as though they have been kidnapped by the Pied Piper of Hamelin. _

_The unbearable sadness of being separated from their precious families… _

_I am asking you to return them to their families as quickly as possible._

_Victoria_

"What you make of it?" Ciel asked as the pair finished the letter, leaning on his study's chair, tapping the desks' top with impatient fingers.

"I'll make you a bet." Mouser started, placing the letter down. "They were taken for a noble's use." It was typical and a rather large blind spot for the Scotland Yard as they had to respect the noble kind when there was no proof of their involvement. And the barest hint of scandal could make the coppers' life quite miserable. Nobles were vindictive. As for the circus it was or wasn't involved. Frankly without anything more in the information department it could go either way.

"What makes you say that?" The boyo asked, his eye clear and sharp.

"Remember my origin? Girls disappeared all the time." Mouser had an empty smile on her lips, eyes dark. Most were taken by the Underworld, yes, but then there the auctions and the direct fancy buyers. Until the boyo had brought Druitt down, as futile as that had proven to be as his survivability to a brush with the Phantomhive seemed to be unusually high, rarely a noble had been flagged. Mouser could name several. Had killed a good handful in her time. Charlotte made even more of them pay for it. "But when you found them they could no longer be considered girls. At least not in the eyes of society." She sighed. "Anyhow the most blatant case of missing kiddos was the boys that the Spider took. From time to time you found their corpses though. This" She poked the letter and the files. "mentions nothing about skeletons."

"It could be something like the girls that were turned into dolls." Sebastian considered.

"If so… it isn't that similar. It's not just girls this time. Look at the files." They had been sent as soon as the boyo sent his answer, guaranteeing he would assuage the Queen's sorrow. "Boys and girls. The ages are matching somewhat but there is more leeway. From eight years old to fifteens…"

"The dolls were all in their thirteen's, fourteen at most…" Sebastian agreed going through the words and images once more. "We will need access to the Scotland Yard Archives."

"I can ask around but I am not sure anyone will know a lot seeing that no one seems to have gone missing in London yet." Mouser considered. The first to go missing would be street dwellers. Jack would know about it almost immediately.

"Young Master if this deals with Underworld will we be visiting his place once again?" Sebastian placed the documents down and straightened.

"To be honest I want to avoid it. But…" Ciel sighed heavily. "If this has to do with the Underworld there is the possibility that they are already dead. How soon can we have everything ready to leave?"

* * *

Emeralds cut in squares with a deep colour, set on a choker of twisted gold, little diamond droplets falling around the base of the structure. That should be enough for Charlotte to spill whatever information she had. The thief had also managed to acquire a ruby and pink gold hair clasp to further butter-up Grell in any chance meeting. She had acquired them roughly at the same time she had been browsing Christmas gifts for the other inhabitants of the Phantomhive Household. She had given Bard a new decorated but fully functional Colt single action revolver, a scarf with little embroidered birds for Finny, a bejewelled brush and comb set for Meyrin and a delicate green tea blend for Tanaka.

Those were the last things that she packed to the London trip in the trunk with its many drawers and layers. It was different from the old one that they had thrown out and it was surprisingly how much it could hold. All of her wardrobe, dresses and all, although a couple of secondary boxes were needed for the shoes and hat. Sebastian also had his trunk packed, the wardrobe empty. The Young Master's luggage was a bit heftier with three trunks that barely held a fifth of his attires and many boxes with the respective accessories. It was all placed in the foyer, ready to be hoisted onto the carriage.

It had taken a couple of days to get everything ready even though they were travelling lighter. Leaving the others behind meant leaving supplies, instructions, schedules and duties. There was also the nervousness of returning to a crumbling manor. It seemed to be a persistent fear that. And the boyo was not particularly eager to return to the townhouse to be pestered by Soma. Especially so soon after having the bright notion of banishing him there. He was grumbling through the corridors about annoying princes.

In the end they left, leaving the servants with some praise and responsibility and very little of hope on Sebastian's part that the Manor would still be in one piece on arrival.

* * *

"It's convenient that Lord Randall isn't here." The Boyo was saying, standing amongst the shelves as Sebastian and Mouser perused the entries, slipping some documents out of place, matching them with the info they had already. Aberlain had wandered into the archive's room, shocked to find them there, trying to talk some sense into the Earl's head.

"Please forgive me but if the Commissioner knew about this…" There was a very real sense of urgency in his tone. The poor man was shocked and confused.

"Its better if he doesn't." Ciel stated simply, looking around with impatience.

"In the first place how did you get to the third floor file room?" Mouser smiled at this, kneeling down next to Sebastian, comparing efforts. It seems that would be everyone… The Scotland Yard really should invest in some substantially stronger window latches and review their unchanging patrols' pattern.

"How does it look Sebastian?" Ciel asked, noticing their lack of movement and the hushed conversation while handling the papers.

"Of the children we've been tasked to investigate there appears to have been no increase in corpses." The butler stated, straightening. Mouser did the same, taking his hand when it was offered.

"If you're finished we should leave." The boyo then turned to the flustered detective. "If you have to talk about this just say it was me." He instructed.

"I'll still be scolded!" There was no going around that point. Still it would be none of their business.

"Anyway. Thank you for today." The boyo stated, starting to turn around, to leave.

"A token for your cooperation." Sebastian waited for a moment before picking up the detective's hand, leaving a nice little sum as bribery much to the man's shock.

"I don't need this." The detective shouted suddenly, returning the coins. Mouser shook her head, one finger sliding over one of her gold earrings. Every other copper she had encountered, barring rare exceptions, had always been so vulnerable to a spot of bribery. And yet this one was shocked and appalled to be on the end of a mere token that required nothing of him. Not even looking away. "I knew you used whatever methods necessary to solve the cases but this… this is…"

"There is something to be said for flexibility." The boyo advised.

"Boyo you are stiffer than a rafter." Mouser considered very softly. "In fact I wager if you ever try to be flexible you'll snap in half like a brittle dry twig." Ciel gave her a slight glare before returning his attention to the detective.

"In any case hurry up and get promoted Mr. Aberlain." They were walking away with those words, closing the door silently, leaving the man sputtering in confusion. They slipped into the hackney after a short walk away from the Yard's den. Ciel scoffed tapping his cane on the ceiling, signalling the driver. Just a few more places to go and get the bothersome task done before he could return to his manor.

* * *

"Are you here Undertaker?" Ciel called as they entered the funeral parlour, looking around warily, knowing the man's preference for jumping out of somewhere in hopes of spooking the visitors for his own amusement. But by both being prepared for it and the giggling of anticipation shattered any semblance of surprise that could have existed.

"Welcome Earl. Did you finally come for one of my special coffins?" The Undertaker appeared behind them, juggling a couple of bleached skulls, one of them falling down with a clatter. He just shrugged, gesturing with a long sleeve, still playing with the other skull on his hand. "Well have a seat. I just baked some cookies." He plopped the skull down, next to the cookie jar, fishing out a golden bone, munching on it happily while the boyo outlined the situation. "Children corpses?" He asked slowly, confirming the words, leaning back on a creaky chair.

"The surface world had yet to find these corpses it seems." Sebastian added. Mouser sat on a coffin, her feet dangling and balancing like a pendulum. Ciel had sat down on a lower coffin, leaning forward, placing his weight on his arms and cane, glaring in distaste and annoyance.

"And in the Underworld children corpses are an everyday occurrence." The Undertaker completed. "Which the earl knows everything about. And so do you."

"Jack did the best he could." She said gently. Not many cared about the kids that ran around and ended up joining. The Undertaker relaxed a bit his expression, nodding.

"Never enough." He retorted with a slight giggle.

"We've brought the documents." Ciel gestured. Sebastian placed them on the work table. The Undertaker leaned and tilted, poking them before fanning and flapping the pages, humming. "Are there any children you've «tidied up» amongst those?"

"I wonder… were they there… If I saw something interesting I would remember…" He chuckled suddenly before turning to the boyo, smiling greedily. "A first rate laugh. If you do that I'll tell you anything you want. You understand don't you Earl?" He poked Ciel's cheeks merrily. "You have to give me that."

"Sebastian…" Ciel called, looking sickened and annoyed. Sebastian sighed and adjusted his gloves. Mouser stood up, dusting, ready to leave. The Undertaker laughed a bit, leaning, half sprawling on the counter.

"So you are relying on him again? I wonder…" He muttered. "If the butler wasn't here would the earl be just a child who can do nothing?" There we a slight peek through the blinding fringe. "Though if it is amusing I don't care who delivers." He finished, waiting still.

"I'll do it." Ciel snapped, his jaw clenching.

"You… will?" Sebastian asked, taken slightly aback.

"Leave. Don't you dare peek. That's an order." Ciel bossed them with a tempestuous demeanour.

"Yes My Lord." Sebastian answered, walking outside, staring at the door and the sign for a moment. Mouser had settled on a barrel, crossing her legs. "What on earth is happening?"

"Soma has been pestering him." Mouser said, leaning against the wall, closing her eyes. "In its essence what the prince is saying it's true. The boyo is rather helpless and can't really do much without help. At least when it comes to tasks like dressing, cooking, cleaning, physical exertion, running, killing…" Mouser smirked. "On the other hand that is not at all different from any other noble and I would bet good money that Soma himself is just as bad. Agni covers for it as you cover for the boyo. I believe he is tired of having those failings pointed at him so blatantly." She jumped off the barrel. "This looks like it will take a while… I will go work on my sources. If I can't find you here when I'm done I'll either return to the house or meet you at the circus."

* * *

"Lovely." Charlotte pulled her hair up, smiling at the gleam of the emeralds, turning slightly, preening and cooing. Mouser chuckled and sipped her hot chocolate. It was thick, sweet and creamy, perfect for the frigid winter weather. "Unfortunately I don't have much for you. And it irks me." Her friend finished watching her new acquisition sparkle around her neck and sat down, expression changing to a grim frown, placing a few sheets of paper onto the desk, retrieving them from the desk drawer. "I'll keep at it." Charlotte assured, smiling a bit.

Mouser nodded, skimming over the words for a moment and placed the cup and saucer down with a soft clatter.

"I have something else in mind now but this is more up Jack's alley." The thief confessed. "At least the more obvious part."

"Can you share?" Charlotte poured the chocolate for herself, leaning back onto the plush armchair of her study, sipping. A slight kick and muffle oath told mouser she had stubbed her toe while crossing her legs.

"There has been a rash of missing children that somehow disappeared with no witnesses." Mouser said after allowing her friend time to get over the annoying pain.

"Class?"

"Across."

"Dead witnesses." Charlotte reasoned.

"Most likely. Going pirate here but there is a reason for _dead men tell no tales_." Mouser agreed.

"Nobles."

"You too?"

"We remember."

"Of course."

"Anyone in London and outskirts?" Charlotte sipped again.

"Not so far. But if the connection with the circus exists… well, it will be only a matter of time."

"Did they look like specific targets?"

Mouser frowned, thinking about it for a moment.

"Now that you mention it… You are thinking like the Baron of Wylde thing?" Charlotte nodded. It had been quite a kidnapping case about five years ago. The three children of the man had been taken, the nannies and servants of the children's floor eliminated. "But there have been no ransom demands. Unless they were selected for looks." Like the Spider dolls. But those all came from orphanages and were purchased. Actually by digging deep enough Mouser was sure she could still find the acquisition slips. "It does make me wonder if there are more than what was reported."

"There is always more." Charlotte said bitterly.

* * *

Sebastian was still standing in front of the Undertaker's store a couple of hours before sunset.

Mouser arched an eyebrow. She had time to visit Charlotte and then Jack, who had been alarmed by the missing kid news but said no one had truly disappeared yet. Two boys had died with the cold that month alone. Which was good. Less than last year. Less than last month. Some were sick. Six had been taken out of the streets by coppers after a badly botched thieving attempt. A handful had been found and taken to orphanages. But everyone in Jack's turf was accounted for, dead, alive or imprisoned. He had said he would ask the other groups. He also said no outsider corpses had appeared.

"Not a funny bone in his body." Mouser said softly, hoisting herself onto the barrels once again. Sebastian greeted her with a small smile, acknowledging the joke and its truth. "I have nothing. Which means they are either alive or someone did a very good job hiding the bodies."

"Do you know anything about the circus?"

"We usually check the circuses… thieves could start competing with them for targets or cut a deal. Good place for cutpurses to act too. The Noah's Ark Circus is very recent and has never had a show in London so far." Not unusual either. Circuses usually started small and approached London as they grew in popularity. If lucky and within the Season they could have a few of their artists called to entertain in a soirée.

"You seem increasingly troubled." Sebastian noted, approaching, adjusting the hat gently tilted over her hair. Mouser smiled ruefully, taking his hand, pulling it down, playing with her fingers over the cloth. "Is it about the encounter at the Exhibition?"

"Not all of it. Although something did snap when it happened." Mouser admitted.

"Your growth was spurred a bit too soon." Sebastian explained. Too much of that could drive a covenant insane. Mouser was mildly annoyed at best. Like a bellyache she had described. Still he had to be vigilant. His hand caressed her cheek, leaning to place a kiss over her forehead. It would be humiliating and rather distressing for a demon's reputation to lose such a promising demoness to something as trivial as madness.

* * *

Night and fallen and the moon and stars were out when a slight chuckle came out of the funeral parlour. Mouser opened one eye and straightened, slipping away from Sebastian, blinking for a bit before focusing. She had been napping with her head on his shoulder. Sebastian picked her up, adjusting his arms around her frame and placed the thief down, letting go and opening the door, peeking. Mouser did the same, slipping under him, the height difference working in her favour.

The boyo was panting and sweating, having removed the outer coat, the jacket and rolled the shirt's sleeves, raking his fingers through his hair, looking utterly tired and more than a bit aggravated.

"My… the Earl Phantomhive would go that far…" The Undertaker was just chuckling in a subdued tone. It told them that is was funny enough.

"What on earth did you do?" Sebastian asked, going easily into butler duty, helping the boyo straighten his appearance and dress.

"Don't ask." Ciel groaned in annoyance. Sebastian noticed as well as her the change poke fun.

"But for the sake of the Queen you'll perform and even do this kind of things. You really are a dog." And he did it with a calm, subdued flair.

"Shut the hell up." The boyo groaned again, pulling the jacket's lapel and turning to the white haired man. "There. I gave you your reward. Now. About the children."

"There aren't any." The Undertaker stated simply, taking the boyo aback. Sebastian frowned, seeing the worst case scenario confirmed, as more investigation was needed. And more investigation meant a grumpier boyo. "Not one of these Children were my clients. And I haven't heard rumours from the Underground companies."

"So in other words you know nothing."

"That's not it. I know that I don't know."

"You deceived me?" The boyo was annoyed and suspicious.

"I didn't deceive you. It's a great clue, isn't it?" The Undertaker pointed out, smiling, playing with the sheets.

"Certainly." Sebastian considered. "You know nothing of the case means that there is no truth to the idea that they were murdered in the Underworld. If corpses haven't shown then there's a high probability that they are still alive." He glanced at Mouser. She nodded, noticing the same pattern. Maybe it was just because the missing children had not been located in London. Corpses were harder to find in the countryside.

"So it means we do have to examine the circus firsthand." Mouser finally said, sighing, checking her clock. They had time to make it to the night show.

"Let's go Sebastian. Contact me if any information surfaces." Ciel instructed. The Undertaker chuckled, calling him back.

"Earl. Keep your soul safe at least." The man advised, intertwining fingers.

"I know that." The boyo stated sourly.

"Really? I wonder…" Mouser heard the Undertaker say as she pulled the door closed.

* * *

The circus was placed in a closed off ring created by panels of black and white lozenges. The entrance was under a billboard, lamps and beads adding to the ambience. Booths, balloons, toys, games, people and children walking around, mingling with the colourful and exotic circus people. Some gave demonstrations of skills to attract clientele. The central tent was big and decorated, the space inspired by the gothic ambience of the epoch's style. The central ring was illuminated by round lanterns and three chandeliers. A great one in the centre and two others flanking it.

"Is this it?" The boyo whispered as they took their seats, painted wood in a vertical stripe pattern, going around the tent, cut by a few corridors for access. "By all appearances there doesn't seem to be anything unusual."

"Ladies and Gentleman! Boys and Girls of Every Age!" The show was starting, a rust haired man walking into the light, juggling. One of his hands was skeletal, peeking out of the cuff or the white shirt. All of him matched the aesthetics and was colourful enough to command attention. Yellow bow, purple jacket, black and white waistcoat with a diamond pattern. The pants were black, the seams decorated with a similar design and the boots matched the tone with white spats and a curled toe. "Welcome to Noah's Ark Circus." His voice was rich and sounding, proper of a master of ceremonies. "My name is Joker. If you'll look here… whoops." Accidentally on purpose the balls broke their juggling ring, falling on his head, creating a chuckle on the crowd as the night's line up appeared around him, preening and prowling. "The whole circus is jostling for a chance to give you a fun show."

Fire eating by a strongman, flying blanco with two small kids, knife throwing, rope walking, snake dancing. The show moved fluidly with Joker's voice commanding the shift and rhythm.

"There is no music or anything particularly special." Ciel commented, seemingly disappointed.

"Indeed." Sebastian agreed neutrally, scanning the crowd. "Mouser. Ignore the tent and try to see the perimeter." Sebastian asked. She nodded and closed her eyes, frowning slightly. Double checking his own perceptions more likely. Still it was hard to ignore all the souls sitting around.

"There is no sign the disappeared children." The boyo considered, his voice slightly muted by her focus. "If they don't intend to make a show of them perhaps the movements of the circus are a coincidence."

"Maybe they just bake them into pies." Mouser whispered, opening her eyes. The only children souls she had perceived outside had all been paired with an adult whose soul seemed to be warmed by the others' presence, signifying connection. For a while she could see them. Then it started to be too much and she had to back away before getting a headache.

"And finally the star of the show…" Joker was announcing as a woman with curly dark hair adorned by a red flower, wearing a black leather corset, showing her voluptuous figure, a red skirt-sash falling around her hips. Fishnet gloves and thigh high stockings with diamond-shaped adornments on the garters accompanied the deep crimson makeup. She carried a whip as she walked out of the draped artist's entrance, the high heeled boots creating a swaying sleek stride, cages of wild felines dragged out with her. "Our wild animal tamer!"

"In the end it appears the show has no connection to the children. This visit has been a waste of time…" Ciel was still grumbling.

"For this act we will need a volunteer from the audience." Joker was announcing.

Sebastian stood suddenly.

"What is it? Did you find something?" Ciel asked, startled.

"That really distinguished gentleman in the tailcoat. Please step on the stage." Joker called, his skeletal hand extended dramatically. "Now… come down."

"Go…" Ciel whispered, nodding, his eye growing calm in calculation.

"Yes." Sebastian acknowledged.

"That's a big kitty…" Mouser whispered when he was near the circle. A tiger waited in the ring, its tail waving slowly. Ciel gasped and turned to her, horrified, understanding that the situation had nothing to do with the Queen's request.

"Ah… such round eyes. I've never seen such soft and vivid stripes. How lovely." Sebastian was entranced, ignoring the ringmaster and the animal tamer, going directly for the feline, petting the tiger like one of the strays that flocked to the Phantomhive gardens. "What's this… your claws seem to have grown a bit long… your pads are plump and exceedingly charming…" The tiger seemed to dislike having her pads touched because it lunged forward and gripped the butler's head, generating a shocked hush on the crowd. Ciel was hiding his face, embarrassed. Mouser was chortling, trying to stay quiet.

"Betty! Let him go!" The woman, Beast as she had been introduced, shouted, swinging the whip. Sebastian grabbed it before it snapped, stopping the punishment.

"She did not do anything wrong." Sebastian whispered said, his voice dropping into a seductive purr, rubbing the tiger's neck softly, making Betty let him go. "In the face of such loveliness I was unintentionally rude."

"Look at that…" Mouser whispered, noticing the slight play with the whip and the frustrated and blushing tamer. "He's already working.

"What?" Ciel groaned.

"Sebastian already found the easiest one to manipulate. She is easily angered, you can see that right away. And there is something terribly vulnerable in the flickering of her soul. If the circus is involved…"

"And besides that…if you simply reckless swing the whip you'll never be able to train her." Sebastian was still making his move, voice deep and fluidly. And then the tiger jumped again, placing its paws on Sebastian's shoulders and biting the back of his head. "My, my... what a tomboy." Sebastian chuckled at that, ignoring the panic in the tent.

* * *

"Who said you could go that far." Ciel was screaming in anger as they gout of the tent, heading to the outside. Sebastian was smiling, pretty much in a blissful dimension.

"My apologies." Sebastian said without particularly meaning it. "I've lived for such a long time but it's only cats whose fickle emotions I cannot read…" He continued in the way of explanation.

Mouser chuckle turned into a short laugh when Ciel started to sneeze loudly.

"What ere you thinking being more conspicuous than necessary." He was still trying to scold before being interrupted by another loud sneeze. "You know I'm allergic to cats. Walk further back." The boyo ordered, storming away proudly, the exit broken by a few more sneezes.

Sebastian bowed slightly, stopping to let the boyo walk ahead. Mouser turned to him.

"I keep getting nothing." Mouser admitted as people walked around. The only children there were present for the show. Mouser could feel older ones than what was on file but those could belong to the circus staff, aspiring artists, orphanage runaways in look for a better life… there were more options.

"In you opinion what would be the best approach?"

"Circus folk are tight. And they are in Hobson's area." They were under protection, most likely. "Infiltration would be best."

"There you are." A voice came from the crowd. Joker's voice… "Hold on a sec' you in the tailcoat!" The master of ceremonies caught up to them. Mouser noticed the top hat of the boyo disappearing behind a tent, peeking as Joker talked. "I am really sorry for earlier." The man said, smiling slightly ruefully,

"No. Please accept my apologies instead." Sebastian said, smiling carelessly.

"I was surprised that you got so near the tiger. You all right from that bite? Anyway we got a special doctor here and I was thinkin' he should check you out." Mouser's eyes narrowed slightly, both of them exchanging a glance. "C'mon round to the back." Joker suggested, gesturing.

"You really must. We shouldn't go back to the Town House if you're hurt." Mouser said softly.

"In that case I will." Sebastian smiled slightly, acquiescing.


	24. Chapter 24

"Righty. This way." Joker was saying while crossing the side of the circus society did not like or wanted to see. Cages, tents, props, supplies, materials other performers and some of the ones that acted that night. Lights over each tents entrance illuminated the area rather nicely. Everything seemed to be mostly in the open. "Sorry it's so dirty." The man chucked ruefully. "Watch your step. Oh." He stopped suddenly, peeking between two tents. "Snake." The snake dancer, the young man with fair hair, like white gold and scaly pale skin was sitting over some crates, feeding a couple of snakes who wrapped around him like thick, brightly coloured scarves. It contrasted with the black and white scheme of his clothes, the high collared and open jacket, black pants and thigh high boots. "Is the doctor in the first aid tent?" He said nothing, glaring for a bit before averting his slitted eyes shyly, one of the snakes moving its tail. "Oops bad timing." Joker announced, looking in the undulating tail's direction. "He's on business…"

"Huh… isn't that the guy who got bit by the tiger?" The girl that had performed the flying blanco act was saying. She was still in the stripped pink and black dress trimmed in white ruffles from the act, brown hair tied in two big buns, adorned by a small black metal crown. A bow fluttered around her neck and ribbons adorned her arms. Her crossed legs accentuated the black tights and the pompoms that bobbed on the tip of her shoes. The eyes seemed a vivid shade of auburn in that lighting, enhanced by the fake bedazzled eyelashes and three diamond shapes under her left eye. Mouser stopped for a moment as Sebastian kept his pace even with the master of ceremonies.

"It really is. The stupid guy." The pair of the act answered, smirking. He was also still in his performing attire. A blond kid wearing a feathered hat, a short pouf-sleeved shirt with a big ruffled collar and pumpkin shorts embroidered with starts. His tights were white and he wore no shoes. Matching his performance partner he had inked diamonds under the right eye. His clear eyes held more disdain than his partners' but looked no less knowledgeable.

Mouser tilted her head. Odd. Their eyes were so much older than their bodies… It was not a strange phenomenon in the streets but there were some differences between actual age and aged eyes. And somehow they seemed to have both sides of the occurrence at the moment.

"Ah… here he is." Joker announced. The doctor was a dark haired man in a wheelchair. He was tending to the knife thrower's leg, leaning over it, the glasses perched near the tip of his nose, the white lab coat covering a simple suit that was missing its jacket. He turned around when he heard them, smiling welcomingly.

"Hey Joker. Is there something wrong with your arm?" The doctor asked.

"No. Today's nothin' to do with me." Joker chuckled a bit hesitantly, rubbing his head.

"Ah… I was wondering who was that but isn't he the man whose head was bit by Betty?" Dagger, as he had been introduced onstage, still wearing the long-sleeved, white and black striped shirt with a jabot, and the plain grey waistcoat, the black pants rolled up the boots placed next to him, the show skirt around his hips bunched and twisted, said suddenly, after pulling his appearance together, putting the boots on, plopping the red and black hat back on his head. His makeup, the dots under his eyes were slightly smudged.

"By Betty?! That's terrible we have to get him to the medical office immediately!" The doctor reacted as any other hearing that news grabbing Sebastian by the arm, dragging him into another tent, making his sit down before examining. Mouser followed silently. Joker was still present as the one that had offered. Dagger came along too, most likely spurred by curiosity. There was a long silence as the doctor scanned Sebastian for wounds, growing less frantic but more puzzled. "Were you really bit by a tiger?" The doctor asked, confused. "I can't find any marks… at all."

Sebastian smiled, remembering the event blissfully, allowed free from the probing hands.

"It was merely a play bite." He said dismissively. Mouser covered her lips and faked a sigh of relief. Flanking her the two circus men seemed everything but convinced of that statement.

"Well… if it isn't serious we don't need to head out there…" So in his panic the doctor had thought of rushing them to a hospital or something of the kind. The wheelchair backed away slightly, the man looking around carefully.

"It's really great yer right…" Joker said, looking relieved. "If I'd let a customer get hurt the ring-leader'd have my skin."

"You're not the ring-leader?" Sebastian asked, following through the given opportunity.

"I'm a bit like a hired shop manager." Joker answered with a chuckle, leaning against Dagger who smirked with crossed arms. "The ring leader is a different scary guy."

"You say that kind of thing and he'll be mad later boss."

"Doctor…" The tent flap was pushed aside, a female voice calling out. Mouser glanced that way. The beast tamer. She smirked a bit and stepped back, leaning against the crates. "I was wondering if you could take a look at my leg…" The woman was saying.

"Bog sis!" Dagger called out happily. But Beast had spotted something else. "That I would be feeling bad in the same time and place as big sis…" He did not seem to notice he was being thoroughly ignored. "It's like we are connected by the red string of fa…" Mouser pressed her lips together. Another one? "Huh?"

"You…" She growled, advancing furiously towards Sebastian. "You're that gentleman from earlier. Why are you here? Thanks to you the show was…"

"Beast." The doctor interfered, showing authority over the circus performers. Mouser's head tilted slightly, curious. This circus had to have a generous patron. Other places she had seen never had an actual doctor… "What are you saying to our guest? In this case if you weren't able to control Betty wasn't that your own carelessness?"

"But he recklessly…" Beast retorted, trying to prove her point.

"There are no buts about it. You are a professional. Deal with your animals." The doctor scolded.

"Now, now doctor… don't yell in front of the customer." Joker said, cutting into the conversation.

"That's right. Instead please take a look at big sis's leg…" Dagger pleaded, the circus makeup that accentuated his eyes making him looking rather boyish.

"Ah… well." The doctor sighed, frustrated. "After this you must discipline Betty again." He asked of the tamer who did not look pleased at all, glaring away from Sebastian who still sat on the examination bench, unfazed by the events.

"Fine." The woman agreed.

"Right then. Let me see the prosthetic." The doctor asked, pointing towards the examination table.

"Prosthetic?" Sebastian asked, standing.

"There is a bit of a reason behind this circus." Joker explained, smiling, glancing at Beast. Dagger was fawning over her while she took one of the stockings down and explained whatever was wrong. "Folks with some sorta problem gather together here. I'm amissing an arm too but thanks to the doctor I've got this. Cool no?"

The demon seemed surprised by that knowledge. Mouser glanced around once again, reviewing the medical supplies displayed around the tent. Much more generous than the average art supporter then.

"It's because you use that hand so much and with so little respect that it goes bad quickly." The doctor was grumbling while working on Beast, sending a seething glare towards the Ring Master. "Makes me want to readjust your whole body." Joker smiled sheepishly.

Sebastian approached, examining his work.

"You're the one who made the prosthetics for the circus?" He asked, leaning, eyes narrowed, the tone shifting lightly as he examined the new thing in front of him. Mouser glanced outside for a moment, keeping silent.

"Yes, that's right. Since I do everything from the carving onwards… it's hard work." The doctor reattached the leg and moved the joint a bit, eyes narrowed behind the glasses.

"Carving? In other words… are they wooden?"

"Nope. Ceramic."

"Ceramic…" Sebastian reached for the ankle, sliding his gloved hand over the surface. The cotton barely made a sound, barely snagged against the surface.

"I'll say the ceramic is made from a special material that makes it light and durable."

"It is truly finely made. They move smoothly with a ball joint like a doll's limbs. It also feels good." He was very unaware that the woman the leg was attached to was gritting her teeth and glaring daggers at him, blushing slightly. And was unaware the other woman was having a slight difficulty to avoid cracking up laughing. "This hallmark is…" he murmured suddenly, moving a bit to stare at the metal piece that connected the flesh to the ceramic. Mouser covered her mouth and chuckled. Beast was beet red now, ready to explode. The angle was not helping but the demon was absorbed in his curiosity. A little too much to notice he was placed right between her legs.

And Beast did what most women in the list of those who wouldn't have already fainted would have done. She aimed the kick for the head while screaming bloody murder.

"What are you doing you pervert!" Beast shouted, the perfectly articulate leg moving flawlessly. Sebastian simply dodged, a small smirk appearing on his face. He had just added up the events into a single picture.

"Ah excuse me. That was rude." The demon admitted, sidestepping a punch. "Yet I have never seen anyone so shameless react so modestly so…" That was enough to bring out the whip.

"You bastard!" She shouted, trying to hit Sebastian.

"Stop it Beast! You're attacking a customer!" Mouser stepped away from the path of the leather ribbon, a minor adjustment in her position, mostly unnoticeable, as the Doctor moved franticly on his chair, waving arms, looking around, finally focusing on Dagger and Joker who stared. "You guys stop her." Joker stared. Dagger seemed ready to loose his temper.

"You touched my big Sister's transparent skin even though I haven't touched her!" The knife thrower shouted, upset beyond outrage, drawing his knives, tossing them quickly, in succession, applying a spinning motion for greater effect. Without training that could either result in the blade going into the victim or the handle thwacking them in the nose in a mildly bruising attack but mostly embarrassing. Mouser preferred a direct toss.

"In all fairness I was not actually touching her skin." Sebastian somersaulting, dodging, balancing himself on a rope, one of the support structures. "Somehow it seems I might as well have been."

"Dagger stop. At this rate the tent…" The doctor wheeled him self closer to Dagger.

"More important than the tent is sis's purity." The man shouted, throwing another volley of knives. Sebastian moved, catching each one, still keeping his balance with perfect poise and malicious smirk. "No way…" Dagger whispered, his arms falling, loosing to shock.

"Don't get carried away!" Beast shouted, her arm making the whip snake, readying to strike. Joker moved, standing in the way, his cane intercepting the whip. There was something in his eyes for a moment. Mouser caught the cold glare. She smirked privately. He might not be the circus main boss but it was clear he was the one with more control in there. At least at the moment. Then the harshness vanished as the turned to magic.

"Here!" He exclaimed happily, the top of the cane bursting into flowers, offering them to Beast as he clapped, brushing the incident aside. "Ookay that is enough."

"Boooss…" Dagger whined.

"Why didn't you stop them before!" The doctor shouted in frustration.

"But he…" Beast was trying to defend her actions once more.

"Now, now…" Joker said in a playful manner, hugging her from behind. "This pretty leg… it's not like I can't understand wanting to touch it." He continued, placing a kind hand over the beast tamer's thigh, just brushing the diamond pattern fabric of her garter. Beast blushed, a less violent tone than before, looking away, her lips tightening slightly. She cared for him Mouser noticed. More than cared. He was unaffected on the other hand. Cared enough but his affection ran in other paths. "Anyway…" Joker turned to Sebastian who was returning the knives to Dagger. "You've got some great reflexes. I kinda want to scout you."

"Really?" Sebastian said suddenly, approaching. Mouser tilted her head, catching the shift. Sebastian had put on a long suffering look, Sighing ruefully he began to scheme. "The truth of the matter is that our current master is spoiled and rather shocking." Mouser fidgeted noticeably and looked away, as if embarrassed. Everyone from the bottom pits would know about such dealings. Most servants could be abused without fear by their masters because they would be too afraid to speak up to an authority and risk being sent away without references. So let them make their own stories and then feed them if they ever asked.

"Your master… you're a servant at some manor?" Joked glanced at Sebastian and then at Mouser with a bit more of attention. "With yer nice appearance I thought you were a gentleman…"

"Me, how absurd. I am but a hell of a butler." Sebastian chuckled, dismissing the claim.

"Gentleman like their servants to be pretty though. It reflects nicely on their status when they parade around." Mouser said, shrugging.

"So a moment ago when you said you'd like to scout me, is that true? If it is I would like to accept it but…" He glanced at Mouser. She looked away, still playing uncomfortable. Joker was thoughtful.

"Are you serious?"

"Aren't I always?"

"Yer pretty funny." Joker chortled patting Sebastian's shoulders. "I like you. I wouldn't mind you coming, anytime." He turned to the thief. "Do you have a talent?"

"Well… it's rather embarrassing to mention this in polite company but… I'm extremely bendy."

"Show me." The ringmaster encouraged.

"All right." She slipped out of the cape, took the hat down and unbuttoned the waistcoat, placing them on the nearby empty table. The knives were hidden under the sleeves and she had chosen to place pocket knives under the fabric for once. There were no holsters in her person either. Mouser took a deep breath as the circus folks looked at her with curiosity. "If you hear anything crack it's because I'm not warm." She warned with a bit of playfulness.

Mouser bent over backwards until her hands were on the ground, shoulders and head looped between her legs, right way up. Her arms were squeezing her breasts, making them look perkier, the swell peeking on the slightly unbuttoned shirt, hands placed on the floor, fingers fanned, perfectly parallel, the tips of her thumbs touching. It was also more challenging for the balancing act as she allowed her feet to leave the earth, in a perfect V, toes pointing forward in a dainty arch, creating a slight arabesque as she straightening one leg upwards, bending the other so the black toe of her boot touched her chin. With a quick undulating flick both her legs were bent and tangled together, tilting to the right, before straightening and curling, her feet almost touching the crown of her head, held there, inches away, her torso curving in a D form. Carefully she shifted her weight and freed one hand, moving that arm up, twinning it with her leg, straightening them both forward, holding the position.

"Contortionism?" Dagger asked to the air, staring.

Mouser smiled and winked, resuming an upright stance. She had been flexible once but never to the point of being a contortionist. It had been a skill that helped with chains, ropes and binds. The closer she had seen to what she had just done was in a circus and RanMao. Being not human helped.

Joker chuckled.

"That was amazing too." He praised, clapping. "We would love to have you as well."

"I noticed in you didn't have one in the show…" Mouser mumbled, the blush over her cheeks more a result of having been upside down than anything else.

"Wait a minute Joker… what are you doing deciding so quickly…" Beast started, angrily

"But he's got outstanding talent… and she's an act we don't have." Joker justified sheepishly.

Sebastian coughed, interrupting as Mouser was dressing.

"The truth is there is someone else I'd like to introduce too."

"If you've got another person that's great. But, as you saw, we've got an entrance test." He winked at Mouser. "You would have had to take it too if what you did a moment ago wasn't so hard to get."

"Why is it hard to get though?" Mouser whispered thoughtfully.

Joker shrugged.

"Heck if I know." The ringmaster said with a chuckle. "We get some flexible folks that train a lot but they never seem to be able to bend far enough for it to be amazing. But about that person… Just bring him. We'll see if he fits."

"I understand. Tomorrow I'll bring that person." Sebastian said, waiting for a moment more as Mouser placed the hat on her head. "Thank you for today's hospitality. You needn't see us off."

Sebastian allowed the flap to close behind them, looking around. The area was a bit deserted now. The circus people were either training or already asleep.

"Well then." He considered, looking around.

"We have a way in." Mouser considered. "Should we risk it?"

"It would be faster if we did."

Several tents. Several wagons.

No sign of the quarry.

And still everything was just slightly askew. Something told them everything was not truly fitting together.

A sudden hiss caught their attention.

The snake charmer was standing there, staring at them, one of his snakes moving closer.

"Entrance past this point is forbidden. Is what Wilde just said." He spoke in a calm, sweet voice, deeply shy, averting his eyes after the first warning. "The exit is that way, says Goethe."

"Thank you for your assistance." Sebastian smiled politely, moving away.

"Goodbye. Says Goethe."

"No choice then." Mouser said calmly as they headed towards the entrance.

"Indeed." He paused, one gloved hand sliding slowly down her spine. She arched into it and then away, purring in approval. "That was quite an interesting display."

"Well… I was not staring at Joker's crotch." Mouser smirked.

"No. But he stared for a bit at you cleavage." Sebastian retorted as they reached the hackney where the boyo was sneezing occasionally.

"The point of a circus is to flaunt assets. Just ask Beast. Now…" Mouser said as he opened the door for her, offering his hand. She steeped onto the box. "Is the order forcing you to travel outside or do you want to go in and make him sneeze harder?"

* * *

"Why did it end up going in that direction?" Ciel grumbled as he was informed of the circus situation and the attempt to infiltrate them in the morning, adding him to the roster.

"You say _why_ but…" Sebastian pointed out as he helped the boyo out of his cape. Mouser closed the door behind them, starting to unbutton her own trappings, taking the papers away from the pockets.

"I mean…"

"Ciel!" Soma interrupted, bursting into the foyer, moving in preparation for a hug, skipping merrily and without a care. "You're late. Are your plans for the day over?"

"Welcome back." Agni greeted them no less happily but a bit more formally, bowing his head slightly, hands pressed together in the Indian way.

"Teach me how to play chess today…" Soma asked, getting sidestepped by a hasty Earl followed by Sebastian. Mouser followed, curious to see how the conversation went.

"When did I give that order?" Ciel was scolding, aggravated as they neared the stairs.

"Is that a problem?" Sebastian was not really answering, waiting to see what kind of complaint the boyo had that time.

"In this case…" He started, turning his head slightly as he climbed the steps.

"What's up Ciel, that is a really sour look." Soma was giving chase, pouting. "You should at least greet me with a smile…"

"Shut up. I'm busy right now so shut up." The boyo snapped, finally unable to stomach the annoyance any longer. Mouser smirked as Soma mumbled something, closing the room door behind her. Ciel went straight for the bed, plopping down on the soft mattress and plump sheets and covers, trying to ease the annoyed frown, getting out of the lighter jacket, pulling on his bowtie. "What I'm saying is how did I end up signed up for the circus?" He demanded, finally getting the privacy needed to discuss the issue.

"You were not. You were signed up for the entrance test." Sebastian pointed out, standing by the door still, next to Mouser. She was looking around, distracted, sniffing the air for a moment, making a slight sound of surprise before returning her attention to the matter at hand.

"Just you or her infiltrating isn't enough?" Ciel groaned as neither answered. "Living in a tent? What a joke…"

"Would that really be all right?" Sebastian asked with a slight smirk, playing the game. "Me, living according to my own free will rather than yours?" Letting go of control… One thing the boyo despised.

"And with us gone you would have to stay within the town house and rely on Agni and Soma for… well…" Mouser smirked too, adding to the fire. "Everything. From food, to bathing, to dressing… Are you willing to give Soma that much teasing material?"

"I guess you're right." Ciel eventually groaned out, glaring, displeased. So the matter was settled. Sebastian went to help the boyo change into nightclothes. Mouser shrugged and grabbed the jacket, going towards the closet. "But you need to perform in the circus, right? I can't do that sort of thing." The boyo pointed out, leaning back was his boots were untied and pulled.

"How true." Sebastian chuckled, walking towards the dresser for a clean sleeping shirt. "Well do as much as you can and please give your best at the entrance test." Sebastian encouraged. "As your butler I'll be rooting for you from the bottom of my heart." He completed the formality of the caring servant, bowing behind the boyo's back, catching him glare before groaning, relenting, starting at his winter socks.

"It can't be helped. I'll do it." Ciel accepted. Mouser closed the curtains softly, waiting with her back turned until Sebastian touched her shoulder, both walking out of the room, the door closed silently.

"You just want to make him miserable." She pointed out. Seeing they were both in the circus already there was really no point in dragging the boyo there other than the amusement of watching him fumble. It was his way of paying back for some comment or action.

"Quite." Sebastian admitted with one of his smiles.

"Wicked creature…" Mouser whispered sweetly, bumping his hip while walking.

* * *

"Whoa… you brought a really cute kid." Joker said was Sebastian and Mouser walked into the back of the circus, a sleepy Ciel walking in a very contrary state behind them, wearing the simplest commoner clothes they had been able to get. The ones that would be easier to dress. Except for the buttons. That had been Sebastian's idea or additional mischief. Personally Mouser would have just given him pull on jumpers. Wool ones. Her idea of mischief was making him itch like a circus of fleas was dancing on his back. But it would be "shove the head in and arms out" as it were. "Huh…" the ringmaster was considering staring at the dark haired boyo that stood stiff and uncomfortable under scrutiny. "Are you a boy?"

"Yes." Ciel said, looking up with a blank face. "I was a pageboy at the manor. My name is Finnian." The story concocted was simple and using the gardener's boy name. Other members of the circus had gathered to see the trials. Some congratulated Sebastian, females ogling him outright. Others asked Mouser about the rumours of her flexibility, asking about tonics that could be used to make one more malleable. Snake Oil was a particular favourite in that inquiry.

Rumours spread fast, apparently.

"What a grand name. If you join we'll give you a stage name." Joker said, dismissing the question, going into a more serious mode. "But cuteness isn't enough to join the circus. If you can't perform that's it." He coughed, examining the Boyo once again. At first glance all he seemed to have was the cuteness factor. "What's your strong point?" Joker finally asked.

"Darts?" Ciel said in a bit shaky and unstable voice.

Mouser lit a cigarette, shrugging the morning cold. One of the circus man, dressed in a colourful burgundy, black and blue outfit coughed slightly, getting her attention.

"Can I have one?" He asked with a smile.

"Sure." She slipped another one free of her pocket, picking up the steel lighter, clicking the flame to life. "Light?"

"Thanks." He used it, leaning towards her, cigarette held on his lips, winking.

"In that case let's do some knife throwing." Joker finally said, apparently deciding to put him through a plethora of trials as he had seemed so flabbergasted about his selection of skills. "Dagger lend him a blade."

"Here ya go." Dagger pulled a knife out of his outfit with a flourish, placing it one the boyo's palm.

"Hit that target from over there." Joker asked, stepping back, pointing towards a wooden board a bit away.

"Ah boss you're mean. With those skinny arms he can't reach…" Dagger appraised, arms crossed, smiling.

"It's not mean. It can't be closer for the show." Joker was smiling too.

Ciel got into position, staring at the target painted on the wood.

Mouser blew the smoke away, glancing at Sebastian. He would have to act, would he not? Darts were lighter and the target would be usually closer. While he had aim with guns the power of those came from the weapon itself. And skill with guns would be too suspicious to show in a cover story that said pageboy. Although she had heard gun parading and trick shots were popular in American circuses. To make maters worse he tossed the dagger with a spin and it was leaning heavily to the left, unbalanced. And the said skinny arms were clearly failing. The dagger flew a good distance but it arched down too soon.

"Yep…" Dagger was saying as the blade was veering towards the ground. But it suddenly picked up speed, angling upwards, sinking into the target's head much to Joker and Dagger's shock. "Hah? No way!"

It did the same again and again. Mouser smirked, hearing a very small rush of fabric and the gravely sound of a pebble against Sebastian's glove, noticing the lightning quick flick of the stone. It was a good cheat and the effect was making Ciel look valuable for a troop.

"Is this all right?" He asked smugly as the knife set came to an end.

"Seems like you have control over it." Joker smiled, praising. "All right." He grabbed Ciel and dragged him towards the tent. "Next. Tightrope walking."

Ciel gulped, looking up before walking towards the stairs, climbing, looking uneasily down the perch.

"Doll tie the lifeline tightly. It's dangerous if a beginner falls." Joker shouted upwards then he stopped and looked at Mouser. "Miss… Would you be able to contort like you did yesterday if suspended from… like… a big metal ring? To add to the shock."

"I never tried but if you think it's a good act I could do it." Mouser answered, shrugging with a small smile.

"Can't I do some sort of music test instead?" Ciel shouted as Doll, the tightrope walker in white finished the preparations. Joker chuckled.

"D'you wanna retire already boy?" the ringmaster teased.

"N…no but isn't there something else…" he was still looking down. Sebastian looked up, calmly, calculating.

"If you're serious don't dawdle. Do it fast." Ciel started, loosing his balance almost immediately. Sebastian helped him through, pelting him with the same trick he had used on the knives, making him react in pain and regain the footing through instinct. He would be akin to a Dalmatian in the morning. "That's great. I didn't think you'd be able to do it." Joker clapped as Ciel finally came down, groaning and looking dismayed.

"Don't demote this cute lil' kid yet boss." Dagger laughed patting the boyo's head repeatedly, excited.

"Not yet." Joker nodded. "But he hasn't done something real important. A big ol' smile." He was smiling for show too. Sebastian had his back turned now, containing his laughter. Mouser chuckled and snuffed her cigarette, standing behind Joker, staring at Ciel and giving him a grin, pointing to her cheeks. "C'mon… smile." Joker encouraged again.

After a small groan of frustration, a laughing demon and a grinning female Ciel managed to smile brightly, openly and without his face cracking.

* * *

Mouser was standing half naked, hair down, in the tent that held the fabrics and outfits. Everything could be matched, adjusted and worn to perform. Doll, Beast and Wendy were the ones with her in the quality of First Tier members. Which meant they knew best what to put her in and how to paint her even though they welcomed input. After all how could one act if the clothes were constricting? Beast went for the sensual, Wendy for the showy but practical and Doll, being younger, advocated the pretty and practical. Her outfit was white, the wig of smooth white roses, long pale feathers and beads adding to the allure, the long fake eyelashes fluttering innocently, adding to the white dress, trimmed with big roses around and under it, the neckband and detached sleeves. She also wore ballet shoes as it was proper for a rope walker and her socks were mismatched, one plain white the other traced by black stripes. All agreed though that if her act was moving her body and showing its impossible flexibility the clothes should be plastered on her.

After a war of outfits they had settled, placed the pieces on a chair, told her how to use the makeup brushes and left her alone with instructions to be at the main tent at dusk, a couple of hours before the performance to be introduced to all of the troupe with her new style and name and to be given the tour.

Pink, lilac, purple and magenta with white fabric trimmings. Her outfit was made of ballet pumps, one pink on the end of the leg that had the lilac and black horizontal stripe sock, the other purple, tipping the pink and black vertical patterned stripe sock. Garters with the same colour scheme held them in place, adorned by the spade symbol. She had gone with the gambling theme and the death card in that accessory. Long gloves with the same colour and pattern of the socks were worn on the opposite arm. Lilac on the pink sock side, pink on the lilac. A dress of black and magenta lozenges covered her from the top of her thighs to the under bust. A deep purple short halter top covered her breast area, black ribbons crossing over her chest and down her back, coming from the edges of the neckline, connecting to a black and white choker.

Mouser glanced at the mirror making a face, walking towards it, sitting on a bench, the frills and ruffles of the white shorts under the dress that matched the trims, in a trick to show nothing to the public but would make them wonder while she bent out of shape, rustling. With black ink she lined her eyes, extending the line outward and inward like the lynx's markings, the feline she had seen in a small cage outside. She then pinned her air and a pair of flat buns on either side of her head, tying it with the ribbon that had the two main colours of the outfit.

"I think I'm ready…" She called the trio outside for a last appraisal. She could move in that…

* * *

"Everyone. From today we have some new friends." Joker called, making the tent go silent, everyone waiting. "Newcomers Black." Sebastian bowed, taking his top hat down. The black of his outfit was more shimmering that the usual butler uniform and the tailcoat had a showman's flare. The ribbon around his neck sparkled and the pin was a small skull. Like her bunny's. His makeup was simple. Heavily traced black ink around the eyes and a sharp line cutting the right.

"I'm Black. It's a pleasure." He introduced himself with a smile, twirling the top hat, before placing it on his head with a theatrical flip.

"Silk." Mouser chuckled as Joker named her.

"Hi. Name's Silk" Mouser curtsied and smiled sweetly, tilting her head, making the ribbons shimmer. Contortionist equals fluid piece of fabric to tie in knots.

"And this one is Smile." Joker finished turning to the boyo.

"What!" He was wearing a pouf sleeved, frilly front white shirt with black vertical stripes, a bow tied around his high neckline. A short waistcoat with a single button and big pointy lapels covered her torso. Pumpkin shorts in deep blue with same colour suspenders and an embroidered blue draping over his left hip, mismatched stockings with lace trim to covered his legs, one solid black the other vertical thick stripes in black and white from the white boots with black bows. A boat-hat with big feathers was perched on his head. The makeup was a line of blue diamonds under his eye. He looked drained and unhappy, cringing at the stage name he had been given.

"Let's get along everyone." Joker smiled and looked around.

"Come one Smile. Greet your elders." Sebastian did not resist the joke, patting the boyo's shoulder.

"It's nice to meet you." Ciel gritted out.

"C'mon Smile, smile." Joker encouraged, chuckling.


	25. Chapter 25

"Now I'll take you for a quick tour of the backstage area. Follow me." Joker smiled after the introductions were done, twirling his cane, pointing towards the circus area. "First there are the tents you guys'll sleep in. It's where the backstage workers an' newcomers, the "second tier" members, live. 'bout two or three people share a room." He opened a flap, letting them peek into an empty tent. "There's the mess hall and store room. An important job for new recruits is making the grub so… good luck." Mouser sighed. Orphanage rules once again. Sleep, work, cook, work and sleep again. "The centre of this area is the first aid tent." He stopped and reached the richer looking tents, separated from the other by a beaded fence. "And there is the main cast private tents."

"Private?" Ciel asked, looking at the area, frowning.

"You get a private room if you're real good." Joker chuckled, tapping his cane and then pointing with his bony hand towards the first tent. "And that's Snake's tent. There's a buncha poisonous snakes roaming free so if you get bit even once is off to the underworld." He chuckled, lighting the mood, explaining further. "Snake and his friends 're still shy, ya know… Careful of their poison." They were doubling back, towards the secondary tent. "By the way…" Joker stopped, turning towards the Boyo "What happened to your eye Smile?"

"Ah… this… there… was an accident." The boyo hesitated and stammered, touching the eye patch. It was a mix of surprise and concocting lies.

"Is that so…" Joker's eyes looked saddened, touching the boyo's head, brushing his hair back. "So young and having been through a lot…" he ended up smiling, patting him. "Everyone here had been through something so you'll get along well with 'em."

"Did everyone join during the tour as we did?" Sebastian asked as they moved on.

"S' true for most everyone." Joker answered looking over his shoulder. "But the first tier members 're from the same hometown. We're all childhood friends."

That explained why they called each other brother and sister.

"Childhood friends?" Sebastian continued the information extracting known as conversation.

"Yeah. But Snake's still a new face. His snake charmin's none too shabby and we didn't have a snake handler so he quickly became a member."Joker smiled and poked Mouser's cheek, throwing a friendly arm over her shoulders. "Kinda like Silk here will be if she gets a pretty act lined up right quick."

Mouser chuckled and played with her ribbons.

"Thanks mate. But competing with Black there is gonna be hard on all of us."

Joker laughed slightly.

"True. But well… The perks are much sweeter if you're a first tier member an' you don't gotta worry about the survival of the fittest. You even get a private tent. That's the reason everyone is working so hard an' competing to become a first tier member." He stopped right in front of the second smaller tent that rang out with noise of training people. "Right… this is the practice tent. The second tier and new ones practice an act here aiming at making a debut in a real public performance." They entered and Joker pointed out some of the acts and props available. "Work on the basics first. Warm up carefully and…"

"Joker!" Beast peeked from the entrance. "It's almost your turn." She took her time to glare at Sebastian as she waited for Joker to join her.

"Yes'mam. Go ahead an' go all out…"

Mouser chuckled. The woman was going to be easy to manipulate if the need arose. Dagger would be next on her list, being generally friendly and his clear crush on the woman leaving a vulnerable spot and a good manipulation advantage.

They walked out of the way of the other practitioners, starting a simple routine.

"The poisonous snakes are at the entrance for the first tier tents. So instead of a guard dog is guard snakes…" The boyo was groaning and they had barely reached the third exercise, He sat down, complaining, legs apart, trying to reach his toes, left first, right next. "To enter the private tents you have to become first tier." He groaned in annoyance and a bit of pain as Sebastian pushed his shoulders forward, to stretch his torso. "If it's you poisonous snakes should be not be an issue, correct? You can see if the children are here or not…"

"They are not." Sebastian answered simply, his hand still applying pressure on the boyo's back, making it look good. He had to at least look like he was trying hard to compete.

"Never have been in any moment we have visited." Mouser said, adding to the conversation. Ciel glanced at her, gasping suddenly, sitting up straight. She was resting on her chest, chin on crossed arms in front of her, her legs stretching forward, her lower half over her head, feet very near the ground. More… she looked comfortable.

"How are you doing that?"

"You don't wanna know…" The thief smirked, stretching her arms forward, yawning. "Also I don't rightly know." There were some murmurs and stares aimed at her. They seemed mostly appreciative. "Blame him though." She planted her feet on the ground and started to straighten seemingly using only her ankles, uncurling with a sigh.

"I could not feel any sign of the children's presence either last night or today." Sebastian continued, making Ciel move as they linked their arms, bending backwards over each other to lengthen their spines.

"Even so we have no evidence there's no relation to the children's disappearances. You haven't thoroughly searched every nook and cranny." The boyo demanded ignoring Sebastian while the demon practically pulled him out of the ground.

"That's right." Sebastian admitted, thinking. "There is the possibility that they're in a condition that makes me unable to sense their presence."

"Dolls." Mouser suggested, balancing on one leg, doing vertical split.

"Don't say such unlucky things. She wishes for the children's safe return." Ciel chastised the pair that shrugged unapologetic. _She_ could wish for whatever she wanted as hard as she fancied. Reality did not bend just because the queen wanted another outcome.

"Understood. By the way instead of sensing the children's presence I…" Sebastian started.

"Heey… don't stretch so sluggishly you guys!" Dagger appeared suddenly. Mouser resumed an upright position and waited. Sebastian and the boyo did the same, stopping with the fake warm up.

"Boss Dagger what about your performance?" One of the other hopefuls stopped a juggling routine to stare at the first tier member, surprised by his presence.

"Today I was top batter." Dagger shouted back. "I am already done and observing practice." He smiled and looked around, brightening when a ring was pushed inside. It was metallic, maybe a meter, meter and half of diameter, suspended perhaps two meters away from the ground. "Silk that's for you. Joker asked for you to make the act with it."

Mouser nodded as the ring was fixed to the floor. It was like a little pedestal.

"Any positions he wants to see or do I just wing it?"

"Try a lot of things. All right." He turned to the boyo as Mouser climbed onto the ring, asking for help from one of the men, the one who had asked for a cigarette earlier in the day. The place where the circle connected to the pole there was a small circular platform. It would be enough. "First you decide your program. What are you hoping for?"

"A program that does not involve me using my body for something like tightrope walking would be good." The boyo was saying, looking pained. Sebastian was chuckling quietly. "Seriously."

"You could strap him to the wheel and throw daggers at him." Mouser suggested, her legs open in a perfect split, keeping her suspended in the middle of the ring, twisting her torso slowly, testing the area and movement range available. She leaned completely backwards over her thigh, one arm going around the frame, upwards, the other free, moving over her shape gracefully, attracting some glances from the men towards the frills that spilled under the dangerously short skirt, before going down, gripping the ring, her leg moving around the circumference in an over split.

"You seem weak, yeah." Dagger laughed, agreeing, the glare Ciel was throwing any of their ways unnoticed. "Then I'll be earnestly teaching you knife throwing." He took hold of Ciel, slapping his back. "What about you Black?"

"I really don't have any preference." Sebastian shrugged.

"You've got good reflexes don't you? If there's something you see that you like give it a try." Dagger suggested.

"Yes." The demon nodded, running past the circus performer, starting to do each of the arts in quick succession, going from the trapeze, to juggling, pole climbing, fire jumping, the wire act, trampoline, stopped when he reached fire-eating.

"Enough, enough… " Dagger was signalling, shocked. The crowd of performers was awing and cooing, praising.

"You're getting too carried away… act a little more like a new…" Ciel was scolding, annoyed as the demon walked towards him again, finished with the display.

"Another super newcomer… really…" Dagger was smiling, amused. "I won't lose to you guys y'know…" He challenged, looking around, looking for someone. "See, he already has his eyes on you…"

"Another?" Ciel whispered, following the pointing finger towards one of the high wires.

Mouser's eyes narrowed slightly, standing on the centre of her pedestal, balanced on one foot. She sniffed the air, staring. Not human. Interesting.

"Hm. There's this amazing guy that just joined." Dagger was saying as the wire walker was staring them down. "He was some sort of government working and he's totally serious. Heey… come down for a second Suit."

"I thought I sensed an unpleasant aura. So it was you." The man said in a cold, almost monotone voice. Mouser sat down in her ring, watching. "Honestly…" The pole-tool he had been using as part of the balancing act cut a path downwards, sinking into the ground, in-between Sebastian and the Boyo. Grim Reaper mouser reasoned after putting the pieces together. "I did not think we'd meet again but honestly… what did you come to fish around this time you demonic fiend?" He had jumped down and was now pointing the Death Scythe at Sebastian. Mouser's eyes narrowed further, her lips twisting with a curse.

"Demon…" The whisper was going around, creating confusion.

"Even under the best circumstances in this Grim Reaper shortage times…" He seemed rather unaware of the commotion he was causing.

"What are you talking about…" Ciel interrupted, trying to quell the question.

"With a demon appearing like this I suppose it will throw off my schedule." The man was complaining, annoyed.

"Grim Reaper? What…" Dagger was still trying to understand what was happening.

"No… this is…" Ciel was still in damage control.

Mouser chuckled from her ring, laughing out loud, falling upside down, her arms loosely dangling on the side of her head, keeping herself looped onto the structure by the leg with the pink stocking. Ciel looked around, disoriented. She was soon followed by Dagger and the rest of the performers.

"Give it up forehead…" The knife thrower said, still chuckling, slapping said Grim Reaper's forehead, mussing the perfectly coifed hair. "You said it with such a straight face that I almost couldn't tell it was a joke." A comb was immediately working to keep the perfect appearance. "Since the first day this guy says the weirdest things, telling jokes like… how about this soul… Hardcore occult fan."

"Though they're not actual jokes." The man said, looking absolutely put upon.

Mouser let go of the ring, dropping on the ground lightly, turning mid air like a cat, approaching.

Most of the second tier members were returning to their chosen routines.

"I'll introduce you." Dagger offered. He hadn't been there apparently… "This guys joined today. The small one over there is Smile. The cutie is Silk." Cute? Mouser mouthed, aggravated. She supposed the pink gave that impression… "The big one is Black." He clapped, standing between them. "We'll bond over our hopes and get along."

"Sorry but there is no way I'll get along with a savage beast." The Grim Reaper stated, turning his back on them, walking away, a few steps followed by a shouting Dagger.

"No way? Circus is all about team work." The knife thrower was saying.

"Why is a Grim Reaper in this place?" Ciel groaned, surprised, suspicious and wary.

"If one is here, a Grim Reaper personally infiltrating this place… Now we know one thing for sure. There is something in this circus after all." Sebastian answered.

Mouser grimaced, examining the man. His suit was crisp but whimsically decorated with some stars and moons on the cuffs and pant legs. Not very flexible nor a subtle infiltrator. She twirled the ribbons, tilting her head waiting for instructions.

"There could be some value in speaking to him. Sebastian…" Before he could say anything else Dagger grabbed him in a hug, smiling.

"Heey what are you doing Smile? You gotta practice if you don't wanna loose to Black and Silk."

"Yes… huh…" Dagger dragged him away much like Soma did, towards the target practice area.

"As you wish." Sebastian nodded, understanding the order even if it had not been said. He glanced at his covenant. Time for some Grim Reaper - Demon etiquette lessons. Unlike him she was still safe from any harm. Demon aesthetics and Grim Reaper rules claimed so. And so she could function as his shield if things came to blows. "Pardon me…" Sebastian approached politely as he was reaching the rope stairs for the trapeze. "There is something I'd like you to tell me."

"I have nothing to say to you." The Grim Reaper said dryly, glancing at them.

"Don't say that. Let's go outside." Sebastian gripped his hand, dragging the man.

Mouser skipped after them.

"What's up with them…" Dagger looked up in the middle of his explanation. "Ah. Getting along?" He stated, smiling. Mouser smirked before closing the tent flap.

* * *

"Honestly…" The Grim Reaper stared them down as they stopped behind the tent, near the storage space. His distaste was very plain.

Mouser approached, moving into his space easily. Taller than her as almost everyone. She looked up, blinking a couple of times. He stepped back suddenly, startled to find her so close, staring at him with dark eyes. She smiled, showing fangs sweetly. His hand twitched for the Death Scythe but he did nothing but straighten and adjust his glasses.

"So you're the handsome man with the cold sadist eyes." Mouser said, going back to Sebastian, sitting on a crate, crossing her legs, toes pointing daintily forward. "Say what you will about poppet but she has excellent taste. On some things." Then again the dress was also to Charlotte's taste so maybe Mouser was the faulty material in that line.

"This is William T. Spears. You recall?" Sebastian introduced the other man, keeping appearances.

"The Grim Reaper that broke the fight with poppet and took responsibility for her actions." Mouser repeated. It was not the one she had seen take Meena and West's souls. Sebastian nodded, smiling slightly.

Spears tskd, lips thinning.

"Even though the London division is understaffed due to the vacancy and punishments in the collection divisions… sending me from the management division… what a disaster." He complained rubbing his forehead as if a migraine was starting to form.

How many was an understaffed division for London? Mouser mused thoughtfully.

"Then why is someone was busy as you in this place?" Sebastian inquired politely, arms behind his back.

"I'm having to clean up after that trash officer that's still undergoing punishment." Spears clarified, the information clearly valueless. To be given so freely it had to be so. Also they had encountered Grell before, carrying the said punishment. Still in a circus Mouser thought sending the flaming red flamboyance herself would be a bit more fitting than that stiff accountant.

"Don't say bad things about poppet." Mouser pouted, containing a chuckle.

"I didn't expect special treatment but I don't think I'd be forced to field work just because we were in the same class." The Grim Reaper continued his complaint.

"For a Grim Reaper to sneak in and investigate… is this some sort of special situation?" Sebastian insisted.

"There is no way I'd release information that concern souls to a demon." The man scoffed, his grip growing tighter on his weapon. Mouser stiffened. Her claws sharpened slightly. Sebastian was still very calm. She eased too. "It'd be like throwing a rabbit in front of a carnivore." He adjusted the glasses with the sharp bladed side of the pole, grimacing.

"I have no interest in poor quality souls." Sebastian said with a shrug.

"Nicely said for a starving demon." That comment made Sebastian stop, his eyes shifting, the pupils turning tighter and the red starting to shimmer more clearly. Mouser sighed, feeling the pull. "That female may be able to keep you strong but from what I can see is still too young erase the hunger."

"I tired of the behaviour of messily sampling every dish available long ago." Sebastian waved away the claim. "If you're hungry the extent of the hunger determines how delicious the dinner is." He moved closer to Mouser, leaning over and around her. It was both telling him she was his and a trick to try and crack his attitude. Stiff people frowned and got flustered before displays of closeness. "But one cannot risk collapsing…"

"What poor taste."

Sebastian chuckled slightly and stepped a bit away.

Mouser huffed and smiled, leaning forward.

The flow of power was one of the first things cemented between them. She was steadily increasing hers as the change took place. He replenished his every time they had sex and helped her adjust at the same time. Sometimes even simple contact was enough for a spark to pass. A touch, a kiss. Feeding was something new in that array of powers. What she had to give him for now could be called a snack.

"Besides that… I am now collared." He pulled the glove away, showing the contract mark, arching an eyebrow as if to say _as you should know_. "So please do not worry yourself."

"All right." Spears said after a long pause. "Since the evil appeared before the job I'll get to the point. I'll say it clearly. In a few days there will be an inspection of a large number of souls. This is a special case so please refrain from getting in my way."

Mouser's eyes narrowed suddenly behind her makeup. So it was already decided then. But was it around or entangled? Sebastian seemed thoughtful. Still he was not going to let go of an opportunity to tease and throw his opponent.

"My my… how difficult to handle alone." He exchanged a look with Mouser. "But this large quantity of souls…"

"The female cannot feed." Spears stated, the Death Scythe slashed in front of him for emphasis.

"Of course not." Sebastian played the offended part. "Only crass and classless demons would force their covenant to mature like that." He played with her ribbons, leaning to kiss her affectionately. Spears twitched. "Mouser has no appetite for souls yet as I seem to be quite enough."

"More than enough sometimes you greedy hell raising tosser." Mouser grumbled looking away with a slight blush and a small smile.

"Shall a demon like me offer assistance?" Sebastian continued.

The Grim Reaper groaned, annoyed, moving, the Death Scythe extending in an attack. Sebastian lost his hat. The blade swerved near Mouser who merely extended her arm when it was retreating, retrieving the captured top hat, balancing it on her head with a flick, looking serious.

"I won't forgive any overtime. If you interfere I'll reap you." The Grim Reaper threatened, resuming a more neutral stance, adjusting the glasses with the blade again.

"It's not as though I want to be involved with a Grim Reaper by choice." Sebastian took the hat from Mouser, placing it on his head, tilting the brim slightly, his eyes covered by the shadow. Mouser leaned, placing her chin between her hands, elbows on her knees. "As I said… I have no interest in poor quality souls."

"Hey. That noisy knife thrower is calling." The boyo walked into the discussion, looking haughty and still very annoyed.

"I don't see him as high class goods. Honestly. Demons are so…" Spears pointed out, continuing his derisive rant.

"You." And Ciel found the target for his own rant. Unless Spears wanted to be punished the boyo's humanity defended him from temper attacks. He might look stoic but there were some cracks and Sebastian had been poking them. "Stop saying things like that here. If you make us suspicious to the rest of the circus we'll do something about it." He delivered his own threat without a flinch. "It's good they thought you were joking." Ciel glanced at Mouser who waved with a smile. "But not being able to blend with humans… you're worse than that vulgar Grim Reaper."

"Poor poppet." Grell was really taking a gossip beating within that group.

"Really we shall not interfere with your job as long as you keep from doing the same to ours." Sebastian suggested calmly.

"I am grateful." Spears recognized the truce offering but it seemed his morals would not leave well enough alone. "But I don't intend to let you out of my field of vision."

"Perfect. Then tonight it's decided that we will absolutely not interfere with each other." Ciel stated.

Mouser yawned ignoring the tense and charged atmosphere. Her cigarettes were in the small suitcase with clothes, underwear, the usual pair of daggers, six pen knives, three colts and bullets to last two weeks. She wanted a smoke… wonder who is willing to gamble around here…

"Then, Smile…" It was Ciel's time to twitch. "I'll ask you to keep your dog tightly leashed." Spears said.

"I don't want to hear that from a glasses that can't even sneak in properly." The boyo teased harshly.

"It's not glasses. It's Suit." He turned to Mouser. "As for you… I doubt you'll go after souls presently but thread lightly."

"Or you'll reap me?" Spears twitched again, angrily. It was not a threat he could carry out without repercussions. And they were both aware of it. Mouser grinned slowly. "Really… then it would be another Grim Reaper running around with scissors. How humiliating…"

"Let's go." Ciel ordered, fed up.

"Yes."

"Aye, aye."

* * *

"Thanks for waiting." Joker returned after the show was over and the outsiders' crowd drained out of the circus area. Dagger had been drilling the boyo non-stop. It was noticeable by the way he dragged himself to a sitting position when Joker called them to gather. Sebastian had been experimenting all the possibilities around while asking harmless questions. Mouser had stayed in her ring, talking to the acrobats. It was clear that whatever they knew was too little, too generic. Most of them were just trying to get away from the slums, from menial or factory jobs. It was just survival. Brought back memories too. "It's time for new arrivals room assignment."

"Yeah…" Ciel groaned from his spot. Joker chuckled and looked at the boyo for a moment.

"Ah… Smile is not very cheerful. Smile Smile." He encouraged laughingly, waving some papers. Mouser patted his head, cooing, sitting next to him, offering a bit of support. For some reason he really did accept it without any of the usual fuss, leaning against her shoulder. "For fairness we did this as a lottery. Smile." He called. Ciel was barely able to lift his head, looking blearily forward. "Tent eight. Here's your roommate Freckles. Black's in tent nine…"

"Seba… Black and I aren't rooming together?" That alarmed him immediately.

Mouser smirked. Another unexpected kink in his plan as it were. The request, the lack of information, the forced adhesion to the circus, the cold outside typical of January and the irregular bouts of snow, having to sleep in a tent, foregoing the comforts of home and servants, the forced physical exertion, the promise of early mornings and compulsory labour… Either they would gab their way out of repercussion or she could already see the Phantomhive manor floor being scrubbed with tiny cloth pieces.

"Ahhh Smile really sticks close to Black." Dagger sing-sang playfully.

"That's not…"

"You have to be independent soon." Dagger chastised, ignoring the boyo's shocked face.

"Black and I should be together because…" He grew silent when Mouser's arms went around him.

"Hush now boyo." The thief pulled Dagger's sleeve, looking away after calling his attention. The knife thrower and Joker stared at her. "It's only natural seeing Black was the strong one in the household…" Mouser whispered and fidgeted, pulling one knee to her chest, still holding the boyo. Ciel glanced at her, confused for a moment.

Dagger nodded, looking sombre for an instant. Joker's eyes went immediately towards Ciel's eye patch.

Sebastian kept a stoic expression. Implying abuse indeed explained why they would clump together. And in a circus where most of the members admitted that their pasts held pain it was something to link them, make them feel more comfortable and closer to the newcomers.

"Black's roommate is Suit." Joker continued after a small cough, regaining his energy and smile. Mouser let go of Ciel, grinning for a moment as they boyo tried to contain a shriek of absolute shock. Both the Grim Reaper and the Demon were staring at each other with absolute disgust, distaste and disbelief.

"Black, Silk and Smile already get along." Dagger picked up again, completely ignoring the atmosphere of the glaring supernatural beings. "So you have to make new friends."

"Silk. You're in tent twelve with Dove." A young woman with bleached blond braided and beaded hair and a poufy pink dress. One of the tight-rope walkers she had been stretching and chatting with earlier. Mouser waved, receiving a warm smile and wave in return.

"This is the worse." Spears was saying, annoyed, adjusting his glasses, still glaring.

"I'll say the same to you." Sebastian retorted, teeth clenched.

"Nice to meet you." The freckled boyish girl was saying to Ciel. Mouser's eye narrowed for a moment and then placed her. Having dressed and acted as a boy herself for years and having met lots of others doing the same in the streets it was easy to spot a similar minded person. Then she caught her scent. A small chuckled escaped her lips as the boyo struggled to be both a normal boy and civil.


	26. Chapter 26

"You ain't goin' to bed yet?" Dove asked, throwing herself onto the dishevelled bottom bunk after undressing, handling the circus attire with more care than the thick nightgown she slipped into, complaining and shivering all the way. It was the woman's tent to start with so there were already possessions and marks of living scattered about. Clothes, a blade a few personal mementos. Dove moved a few props and trinkets out of the way, stuffing some on the travel trunk that belonged to her before letting Mouser arrange her bedding and push her trunk to an empty spot.

"No. I've gotta walk around a bit or the legs are gonna cramp on me." Mouser slipped back into her street accent easily after changing into a more comfortable set of clothes, looking out, holding the flap open, seeing no one outside and some faint shadows inside the other tents, cut by the gas lamps. Everyone would be preparing to sleep.

"Is that one of your tricks?" Dove asked, stretching and slipping deeper into her covers.

"One of many." Mouser smiled. Sebastian was pinned and the boyo would be unable to do much. "I won't be gone long." Plumes of white rose from her lips as she walked out, the fabric falling behind her, sealing the way, going through the paths created by the tents, catching fragments of conversations, reaching inside her pockets and getting a cigarette, mixing the cold plume with a grey wisp of smoke and a small sudden flickering flame.

It was an eerie empty place without the warm light and sounds that created a circus during the day and early night. A few rats scampered in the dark, their paws scratching the ground. A cat seemed to follow them with bright eyes from a perch. Still no target-child. She could not search the places where scraps of information would be stored as it was much more difficult to sneak and rummage through possessions if the room was small and shared with the victim. She was also leery of the snakes. Mouser had no idea how resistant she would be against exotic poisons. On the other hand it was highly unlikely information would be found anywhere else.

So what could she do while her companions were virtually incapacitated?

"Can't sleep?" The thief stopped walking when Joker's voice reached her, turning slightly.

The Ringmaster seemed to be doing his own rounds, seeing if anything was amiss before retiring. He was smiling as he came to a halt next to her, arms crossed under the jacket that covered his shoulders, appraising, thinking of why would she be out and about in the cold night. Mouser looked straight ahead sighing smoke and fog. Could be a useful encounter is she played her cards right.

"Not until I know where I am." She whispered calmly, conversationally, breaking his smile. He understood. Why would he not with all the hints that had been given.

"There is nothing to be afraid of now." Joker placed his bony hand on her shoulder. The prosthetic moved without a hitch, giving a reassuring pressure.

"I've heard that before." Mouser snuffed out the remains of the cigarette against a nearby crate, shoving her hands into her pockets, head down.

"Silk…" The man whispered. Then his smile was back, patting her head playfully, like one would do to a little sister, like she used to do to the kids that came to the Dancing Pig, begging for a way out. "I'll show ya around."

* * *

Sleep was indeed a luxury. That being said Sebastian had no particular attachment to such a thing at the moment. He was neither severely beaten nor waiting for Mouser to snap out of her shortening slumber cycle and pretend to linger lazily and sleepily while nuzzling him like a kitten. The lack of said occurrences coupled with the ridiculous rules the Grim Reaper had established ended with the demon staying still as a corpse, arms locked next to his body, staring at the cloth ceiling with a frown.

Delays and annoyances… But the Grim Reaper said they _needed_ sleep. So theoretically it would be easy to sneak away once he had entered a deeper slumber. Sebastian sat up, moving stealthily and slowly, edging towards the foot of the bunk. It was also annoying that childish notion that passed for division of "territory." As he reached it the Death Scythe extended with a hiss, blocking his path, the Grim Reaper peeking from the bottom bunk, placing the glasses on his face, slipping it over the bridge of his nose, glaring, the usual pristine appearance slightly dishevelled.

"Where are you going?" He demanded stiffly, angrily. "It's well past lights out time. Truly… I cannot tolerate you soul stealing so please limit you wandering without a master while I sleep."

Sebastian frowned and scoffed, moving backwards, annoyed.

There was just the barest hint of sound as Mouser sneaked in, stopping to check her surroundings, to see what was where, climbing onto the top bunk without effort, the mattress and structure dipping a bit, creaking with the added weight. Sebastian smirked for a moment as she came closer, smirking, snuggling, getting comfortable over the thin covers, against his shape.

"I have no way to sneak in. Not with them inside, the snakes loose. There are some anti-thieves traps but they're simple rope-and-bell, easy to avoid." She yawned. "There will be better chances during the day while training and putting on the show. If so we should check the tents one by one taking advantage of the one that's empty at any given moment."

Apparently she was there to simply report.

Although there was fun to be had in the aggravating of the man in the bottom bunk territory. Done with the official nature of her presence she sighed sweetly, pecking Sebastian's lips, moving a bit closer, the bedding creaking under them. The Death scythe pierced the mattress suddenly, next to their heads. Mouser smirked, letting go of the tension the startle had created. Sebastian slid his hand over her hair grinning too.

"Refrain from intimacy while I am forced to share the tent with this vermin." Spears said a bit angrily, pulling the bladed part of the Scythe out, a bit of stuffing pouring out, glaring at them, rearranging the glasses. Mouser sighed and moved towards the lower edge of the bunk, hanging upside down, staring at the Grim Reaper.

"Hush. Up here is his manor as you demarked. If we wanna bonk were gonna." Mouser paused smirking, watching him fume. Then she hopped down the bunk and slapped her clothes straight. "Still I'm clearing off. Good night."

* * *

"What is it with your outfit?" Mouser asked playfully while carrying a bucket of apples that shone, recently polished and washed, red with yellow streaks, placing them on the long table that served as the preparation area. She was not one to talk because the thief had returned to her layers of street clothes. Everyone was busy preparing what they had or carrying what they had left to buy from the markets and shops nearby.

"It seems your remain unaccustomed to changing clothe on your own." Sebastian walked by condescendingly with a large tray full of clean snow and fish.

"I was hurrying." The boyo groaned, his clothes and hair in disarray, struggling with a bucket overflowing with potatoes. He was not going to admit anything. Sebastian chuckled as he placed the fish down, looking at the mess. The buttons had obviously gotten in the way. He was also shivering in the chilly morning air, still sleepy, unaccustomed to such an early morning start.

"Oh dear." Sebastian kept his tone low and even, slightly chastising, slightly mocking. "You are going to have a difficult time untying a dead knot on your own." He scolded while retying the not of the medical eye patch, ignoring the confused stares and the work that stopped around them.

"Smile!" Freckles called, laughingly. "Black ain't your mum!"

"Might was well be." Mouser poked Freckles shoulder, both laughing as the boyo grew flustered.

"No!" The boyo was quick to shout, getting away from Sebastian, stiffening and blushing. "It's a habit… sometimes…" Mouser gave Freckles a little push, encouraging the circus member to join the preparations, winking at Ciel, letting him be for the time being. "Sebastian. Don't treat me as your master while we're here. Leave me be."

It had been a whisper but Mouser was not sure he acutely understood how difficult for him that was going to be.

"Understood. I shall at once."

The groups were working quickly to put a hearty meal on the tables so everyone would have the energy to train and act. The first tier members were not doing much but they did do something from time to time. Snake was moving around, shyly. Mouser took an apple from the pile and approached, peeking around the corner of the tent, to the gap where he had holed himself up.

"Here. You really should eat more. I can see your ribs under that jacket of yours." The snake charmer seemed to be surprised, eyes flittering about when she addressed him, as if making sure. He reached for the fruit with a scaly hand, looking at it before taking. He wouldn't have to fight for a share but he did seem like a sort of man that often forgot to take care of himself.

"Thank you." There was a pause, a long one. "Says Oscar."

Mouser crouched so their eyes were level.

"Which one is Oscar?" There were at least four snakes wrapped around him, moving sinuously.

"I am Oscar. Says Oscar." There was no pause this time. He did seem to be surprised that she was talking to him and his snakes. But he was answering. That was the whole point.

Mouser extended one hand to the snake whose head was tilting upwards, dancing in front of her, emerald green scales and big yellow eyes. A long tongue slipped out, tasting the air. She smiled.

"Can I pet him?" Snake seemed flabbergasted, exchanging a glance with said snake named Oscar. Mouser kept her smile on, moving one hand. It was rather frightening to see and actually be asking that but even if Joker felt sympathy for her and asked her to show a complete act by noon, Dagger seemed willing to play and gamble and Doll taking a shine to Ciel and Sebastian being the most likely to make it quickly to the first tier, it would be best if all the members felt that they were trustworthy. Gangs had been brought down that way more often than one thought. One false member in the right place and...

Snake was the tricky one, skittish and shy. Jumbo was a kind giant, willing to help the newcomers, seemingly feeling closer to Doll. Beast, despite the animosity she showed Sebastian, seemed to have little to nothing against Mouser. Ciel was regarded as simply a cute kid.

"I'd like that. Says Oscar." Mouser scooted closer, shoulders almost touching with Snake, reaching for Oscar. His head felt smooth under her fingers as he undulated under them. He snaked around her wrist for a moment, tasting the air again with a quick tongue before returning to Snake, wrapping around his shoulders.

"I'm going back to help out. Please eat." Mouser continued her encouragement, leaving, walking towards the crowd.

"Smile what're you plannin' on makin' with them potatoes with peels thicker than the meat?" Freckles shouted suddenly. The peeling had proven to be a disastrous choice for the boyo.

"Uh…" He looked up, holding the knife and a small sliver of the potato.

"What do ya think you're doing? You peeled that many?" Freckles was panicking about, staring at the bucket of thick peels, uncut potatoes and the shards he had already tossed to be eaten.

"I… I'm sorry…" The boyo was stammering, embarrassed.

"Interesting." Sebastian mentioned while watching the scene, his sleeved pulled away while gutting and cleaning the fish. It did not matter where he were. The movements and purpose were still as sharp.

"What is?" Mouser glanced at the boyo, cutting the carrots.

"With the exception of you, because of your prior experience…" The butler began.

"I was housebroken, you mean?" Mouser interrupted, adding the sliced vegetal to the pot of what would become stew.

"I would not be so tactless. But every other of the Phantomhive servants made that same mistake the first time they stared at a gross of potatoes." Mouser chuckled and moved on to the spinach.

"Cor Blimey what part of this can we eat?" Freckles asked sourly, turning and twisting the white shard.

"It cannot be helped. I shall deep fry them and make them crisp." Sebastian walked in and picked up peels and cores, walking towards the boiling pots. "Then turn them into fish and chips.

"Cor! I love those." Freckles followed, enthusiastic, peeking around him as he placed the ingredients near the frying pan.

"That is good to hear." Sebastian said, smirking.

* * *

"Look, we're going Smile." Freckles was dragging Ciel through the crowd as soon as the little brass bell was rung, signalling that everything was ready for eating. It was barely seven thirty in the morning and London's fog was still thick around them. "If we don't hurry we'll miss the meat."

It was indeed a war to gather whatever they wanted to eat, piling the plates and getting away before anyone toppled over their loot. Someone as thin and light as Ciel was easily pushed around unless he was fast and a dodger. He was not much of a dodge adept though. He was a complete mess by the time he reached the tables. Mouser smiled as he and his bunk mate sat down, a bit farther down. Snake was hovering nearby, holding his plate. The thief smiled lightly. He sat down nearby but without approaching.

"What? Look like you only got bread in the end." Freckles was chuckling, showing a plate filled to overflowing. "Well that's that. I'll share some of my grub with ya." She plopped a few slices of meat, fish'n'chips and couple of greens on his plate. "You're skin'n'bones and so tiny. Eat up and grow some."

"Thank you very much." Ciel said a bit begrudgingly.

Mouser sipped her water quietly, pushing her meat pie towards Snake. Dagger was fawning over Beast. Peter and Wendy kept to themselves even amongst the first tier, Jumbo was eating less than Freckles and Joker was talking to the Doctor, moving his skeletal hand in small movements. Maybe he was having it checked.

"Anyhoo… Black is so good at cooking." Freckles was praising in-between bites, trying to coax answers with full sentences out of the Boyo.

"I see…" Success was dubious.

"I heard he's an ex-butler. Can butlers even cook?"

"They should know." Mouser piped in, picking up her plate, walking by. "Butlers have to know everything needed to take care of their masters. Usually a household can live without any servant but the butler."

"Really?"

"Aye. But that's an incredibly amount of work for just one man." Mouser moved on, waving, going towards the training tent.

"Well… He made you failed potato peels this tasty!" Freckles laughed.

"I see." Ciel still was unresponsive.

"Awrighty. I'm done. S'time for practice."

"Already?" The boyo jumped, staring at the empty plate while he had barely made a dent into his own food.

* * *

"Ow…" The boyo groaned, smacking into the ground, falling from the ball he had been trying to balance on.

Mouser looked up from Charlotte's papers. She was taking a small break after experimenting with routines. It really was too little information and she could see why her friend would be angry. It was almost an insult to her network.

Angela had left Houndsworth a couple of weeks after them. People when asked knew nothing about it. No personal effects or relatives left behind. From asking around a few sightings had been spoken of. One near a bridge at dawn when they were leaving the doll house, another leaving London to the outskirts just after the Curry contest… She had left to the opposite side of the Phantomhive manor. As for the man there was only memory of him near the Angel Wings Antiques, spotted by a couple of resident whores in the area and in the Crystal palace itself but no one that had been asked, servant or noble from Charlotte's contacts had memory of seeing him get in the Exhibition. Interestingly enough they had memory of Angela getting in. Now unless the woman had sneaked him under the skirts things were getting odd.

"Oy… where's your sense of balance from when you took the entrance test?" Freckles had finally managed to grab the runaway ball, returning it to the boyo that sat down, rubbing his rump. "This is the basics. The basics."

"Black is amazing!" There was a sudden shout. Sebastian was balancing on three balls, keeping them rolling smoothly,

"Suit ain't bad either." Someone else said. The Grim Reaper was doing the _ act, using the Death Scythe as part of the act.

"They're amazing. You need to hurry up and get your act together. Have you seen Silk too" Freckles was drawn again towards the act they were putting. "That ain't no human feat."

"Amazing…"

"Oy." Joker walked in, twirling his cane, all spectacle at the moment. Mouser put the papers away into the pocket of her ratty jacket, standing. As asked she had put on the showy sequence that she had thought out the day prior. Joker and the other first tier members had watched. But there had been no opening to use when it came to exploring the tents. "I have news." Everyone seemed to be staring, curious. According to the murmurs during breakfast that was the time where the night's debut would be announced. They liked to have a different act each night. Kept the public excited and returning to see what else they could show them. "Silk will debut tonight."

Mouser blinked a few times, surprised, looking around, creating a slightly shy and reserved look on. There were cheers and congratulations aimed at her. Some came with jealousy. Sebastian nodded, satisfied with the outcome. Hers was a more specialized skill so the odds had been in her favour towards being the first to debut. But it did not mean she would make it to the first tier yet. But it was a good step for the Young Master current plan.

* * *

"Ooh. I'm all sweaty." Freckles sighed deeply, wiping the sweat away from her brow, laughing lightly. "Why don't we go take a shower Smile?" She offered while Ciel was wheezing and panting leaning against one of the balls. He glanced up, trying to find his voice.

"There are showers?" The boyo managed to get out of his mouth, peeking up.

"Yeah, there are." Freckles gripped his jackets' sleeve, dragging him out and cutting through the tents, going for the back area while explaining. "Cuz it's cold at night you better get in during day time. See. Here." She pointed towards an open area with water buckets, tins and table with towels.

"Shower is this?" Ciel asked in disbelief,

"Hey Smile strip down. I'll wash your back." Freckles teased, grabbing a bucket.

"Outdoors in the dead of winter with that water?!" The boyo was shocked.

"It's water, and?" Freckles answered easily, smiling a bit mischiviously. "If you just splash it down and wipe yourself off immediately you'll be fine. Them aristocrats say ice swimming is good fer you. It's all the rage now."

"I'll pass…" Ciel whispered, turning away.

"What? I said I don't mind…" Freckles answered, grabbing his arm again, the bucket swaying, splashing a bit of water around.

"No… it's not that I mind…" The boyo was trying to say while they wrestled about, growing a bit panickef, frantically trying to get away. It ended about as well as one would expect. While trying to get away the boyo tripped on a tub, Freckles tripped on him and the water fell over and around both, splashing around, the hard winter floor growing soaked and muddy.

"Ugh… blimey you even got me all soaked fighting back like that… Augh it's cold…" Freckles was complaining, the fabric of the clothes producing a sloshing sound.

"Won't you please move…" The boyo whispered, dripping wet.

"Geez we're soaked. Just give up already and strip." Freckles chuckled, brushing the moment away, still pulling on his clothes. "Here we go…" She shouted victoriously as her fingers finally found the edge of the shirt.

"Wait. Stop… please stop that." His voice was growing anxious and pleading. He was out of the moment.

"You're gonna catch a cold like that…" She went silent suddenly, staring at the boyo's marked back, seeing him shiver, loosening her grip. The boyo bolted, running away, keeping the clothes pressed against him. "Smile!" Freckles called, worried.

Mouser sighed uncrossing her legs. Sebastian nodded, both moving towards the hiding spot the boyo had found. They had been watching, seeing no chance to do more than wait and plot. But as the events had unfolded the boyo would want someone to listen to his complaints.

* * *

"You'll contract a cold." Sebastian stated, throwing a towel over the boyo. Ciel was sitting, hiding and curled, against a big wheel, amongst the cluster of still carriages, shivering, still dripping, snow melting around him.

Mouser moved closer and rubbed the fabric against his wet hair, more a play than care. He would be fine as long as they worked fast and dragged him to the mess hall tent to get warm.

"Someone as dainty as you should be more careful." She teased, frowning when he would not stop shivering and showing a distinct rasp on his breath.

"Let me give you a change of clothes." Sebastian continued, said change already on his arms.

"Ough…" The boyo scoffed, bundled inside the towel. "Enough already. I'm going to feel queer if I continue to live like this." The complaint came out easily.

Mouser extended her hand.

Sebastian sighed slightly, in defeat, and patted it as if acknowledging something.

"Oh dear, you are surrendering already? You are quite lacking in endurance." Sebastian showed a concerned and disapproving face before smirking slowly. "To feel queer at this extent… isn't like the Young Master."

"Not like me…" Ciel whispered, his eyes growing dull and distant. Then he scoffed and straightened haughtily, staring at the pair. "That's certainly so. It shouldn't be like me, the head of the Phantomhive family to live like this. Let's bring this to an end quickly."

"Yes sir." Sebastian gave the easy answer, waiting.

Mouser shrugged. Warmth and a full belly was sometimes all the motives one needed to do something.

"Anyways… we just need to investigate the troupe's tents and we can go home." The boyo reasoned tossing the towel away, aided out of his clothes by Sebastian.

"I though you were patiently aiming to be promoted through the troupe." Sebastian reiterated the plan tolerantly folding the wet fabric, patting the boyo dry patiently.

"I cannot do something that will take too long in this environment. My patience is at a limit." Mouser scoffed, amused. Not to mention the lack of skills for that kind of life. With time he could be decent at knife throwing but what were the odds of a noble giving up his status and money for the circus life?

"As for me I cannot go out at night since the Reaper obstructs me." Sebastian mentioned the annoyance with a frown. "Forcing our way through would be the easiest."

"But it would raise a commotion. What if they aren't' the ones?" Mouser placed the option to be thought over. "We would run the risk of spooking the prey."

"Even if there is a Reaper here we still haven't determined if they're the perpetrators." Ciel agreed on the part of the iffy involvement of the Noah's Ark "So be patient."

"Yes. If that's what we're aiming for we'll do it during the show when all troupe members are out of their rooms." Sebastian suggested. Even if they had to wait for one or another to go into scene. If they timed it right there was a good chance of success.

"First of all we need to think of a way to shake off that Freckles who is stuck to us."

"There is no way for Freckles to follow you during the show, believe me." Mouser said as the boyo finally got into the other set of clothes.

"I must make my move or all will be pointless." The thief frowned. There was still something iffy about his breathing pattern... "Let us get back soon. I want to eat sweets while drinking warm tea." Ciel demanded, growing calmer as he expended his lordly airs and bossiness.

"I shall prepare them when we return to the estate." Sebastian said in a reassuring tone, bowing. Mouser shrugged, leaving with them, picking and bundling the boyo with a cover she found nearby. That night she would not be of much help on the infiltration plot but inside the tent while performing and waiting she could gather and delay the first tier members, trying to give the boyo and demon a greater chance of success.


	27. Chapter 27

"Everyone get ready. The performance is about to begin so hurry up." Joker had called, making the whole troop go into a frenzy, dressing up, putting the makeup on, finding the props and trying to work out the last details. Mouser finished her hair, make-up and adjusted the ruffles under the skirt. Even though she had odd experiences in her bag performing in a circus and with a skill that was so new to her was something of a novelty. So she easily admitted some jitters while sitting down in the corner and watching the activity.

"D'ya know where my headdress is?" Wendy was asking tying the ribbons around her arms, walking around, peeking under discarded clothing and props.

"Here it is." Sebastian gave her the black crown, smiling politely, watching everything. He was still a perfectionist despite not being a true part of the troupe. So if the show was to go on he would have to approve of everything.

"We don't have enough knives. Where are the spares?" Dagger was shouting, already with a bunch in their colourful casing.

"Here ya go guv." Someone ran by, placing another set down.

Ciel was jumping around, attending to request, preparing things as he was asked and trying to avoid getting trampled. Joker whistled suddenly, the crowd leaving the tent, the crowd dwindling to nothingness, the requests quieting down.

"Ah… will I get around to investigate that tent or will I keel over from overwork first…" Ciel whispered to himself, finding a bench. But he could not complain nor rest unless he wanted to attract suspicion. "Excuse me… what should I do while the show is going on? Huh?" Empty… all the performers of that night and all the first tier members were away, in the main tent, the sounds of the show's beginning reaching them. "Sebastian." He shouted, seeing a chance, going to the demon that was organizing the clothe racks. "We have a shot. We don't know when the next chance will be." Sebastian lowered his head in thought, listening to the sound on the outside, ignoring the Grim Reaper that was quietly glaring. "Let's investigate that tent right now. Have it done in ten minutes."

"Yes My Lord."

They ran outside, ready to move on with their mission. Inside the crowd was cheering and gasping. They had time and a cover…

"Black!" Demon and master froze in place, turning towards Joker who walked out the tent, carrying the flying blanco girl, accompanied by Peter who had a very worried expression in his eyes. "Miss Wendy twist'd 'er ankle so she can't perform 'nymore. So Black… Please go out in her place." Joker asked, clearly in need. "The show will be fine if ye do it. So please, Black… it'll be yer turn shortly so please git ready soon. Silk is finishin' her act and then you're up."

Ciel was grinding his teeth. Sebastian acknowledged the request and sighed as the trio went to the medic's tent.

"Pity Young Master. We'll have to wait for another chance." Sebastian said, resigned. "Young Master?"

The Earl of Phantomhive was staring at the placard that showed the sequence and times of the night's performance, calculating.

"We don't need to sneak into that place for long. On top of that now might be the only time when one of them is not here." He sighed after a deep breath. "I have time. The tough part is the venomous snakes. According to he program your debut will end at seven fifty and the encore is at eight. You'll catch all the snakes, in five minutes from now," He checked the watch, frowning. "Appear in the show, finish your debut, go back to release the snakes and be back for the encore. I'll investigate the rest. Let's go."

Sebastian just bowed a bit, both returning to the task at hand, going for the first tier tents.

* * *

The snakes were easy to catch, stuffed and knotted into a small cage, hissing in annoyance, wriggling, unable to get out on their own.

"This is the last one of them isn't it?" Ciel peeked into the tent, careful. "All right." He walked in without fear then, coughing, clearing his throat, shivering for a moment. "You go straight to the show tent. You'll be suspected if you're tardy."

"Certainly. I will be back at once." Sebastian acknowledged, returning to the dressing tent and preparing.

* * *

Sebastian stopped, shocked and annoyed when he saw that the Grim Reaper was also in performing clothes and there to perform. Dagger was standing between them, having just informed the pair that they would have to act together. Mouser was finishing her act on the ring. Joker was on the sidelines, waiting to enter and announce the next piece of circus whimsy.

"Wasn't only Wendy that was injured?" Sebastian asked in a flat tone.

"Aye it was. But ol' Peter can't give ya a hand." Dagger said, stretching watching the brightly lit arena.

Mouser was finished, standing on the small pedestal of her tall ring, balancing daintily on one foot, arms up finished, the crowd clapping and cheering. Jumbo was the one that walked in, raising his arms, letting her step onto his palms and then hop down with a bow as Joker walked in, cane twirling to take on the master of ceremonies' role.

"I will not consent." The Reaper said, huffing in a bad mood, adjusting his glasses, trying to keep his composure. "Why must I be grouped with you?"

"I don't fancy it either but we cannot help it can we?" Sebastian stated simply.

"For me to cooperate with such a vermin... Really now."

"Well... seven thirty."

Both huffed and walked away, taking their places on the trapezes, ready to start.

Mouser walked into the side, glancing at Dagger who was looking up. Doll and Beast were there. Joker was presenting, Jumbo was removing the props from her act, Snake was sitting in the shadowy corner playing with his snakes, waiting. She sighed, stretching. Peter and Wendy would be with the Doctor. She had heard the tumble she had taken. It was an unfortunate event. Sebastian was aggravated and she doubted it was just because he had to perform. Most likely the request had interrupted something.

The act had started and already it seemed to be hitching.

"What are you doing?" Sebastian was growling.

"Please refrain from touching my hands vermin." Spears was huffing, looking away.

Swinging upside down like pendulums was not the moment to have a quarrel like that though.

"That won't make the show now will it?!" Sebastian was once again worried about the look of what he was doing.

"What are they up to..." Beast was considering while they swung back and forth without anything showier than the fact that they were gripping the wood upside down with their knees. She began to move to get a better view, the corset snagging on one of the beams, the string that both kept the sides in place and decorated her back snapping with an audible sound. "ack... my string tie." Beast gasped softly, looking over her shoulder with a look of slight annoyance.

"AH" Dagger noticed, looking at her and panicking, waving his arms madly. "y'all ain't no looking." That did not keep him form staring at it, wide eyed and appreciative. Poor thing did not notice he was unnoticed.

"There is still time to change... and just don't make a big deal out of it." Joker piped in, looking away from the two performers that were refusing to impress the crowd, smiling kindly. Mouser caught the tension that was not hers when Beast acknowledged the request. Everyone was there… which meant the boyo might be snooping about.

"I'll help Miss Beast." Mouser offered as the beast tamer threw a shawl over her barely dressed form, nodding in acceptance and walking out with the thief. "With corsets it's usually faster if two do it."

"Yes… I tried to have some easy one made but the ribbons can still be challenging." Beast mentioned, her hands under the shawl keeping the fast unravelling corset from falling from its place.

"Some ladies have corsets that actually need locks to stay in place." Mouser chattered simply, skipping next to the woman. That dragged a small smile from the woman.

Cheers and gasps of shock began to erupt in earnest from the tent.

"They're getting excited." The woman noted, pausing her stride, glancing towards the tent. Mouser nodded, looking around, noticing the small telltale signs that the boyo had been searching for something. Maybe she should take some time to teach him how a thief worked. If he wanted to go on those escapades without relying on her or Sebastian he needed to get a bit more subtlety, light and fleet of foot.

"They are both amazing in practice. So one hopes that goes well in the ring." Mouser said with an easy shrug.

"Yes… you… Silk I'd like to ask what your relationship with Black is." Beast looked away, blushing slightly. While her love went to Joker, Sebastian was worming into her head rather steadily despite not doing anything actively. It was a mix of aggravation and curiosity. Most likely every man outside the troupe had treated her like an object, a toy, something to be desired and tossed away. The Demon had infuriated her and then pretty much ignored her, behaving with simple politeness and the detachment used for social situations. "You seem close. Despite him being an insufferable bastard."

"We are a bit like family." Mouser smiled, tilting her head.

"Really…"

Mouser nodded, still smiling, shivering suddenly when the wind moved through her, the tent flap whispering slightly. Beast opened the flap, entering, letting Mouser through behind her. It was a rather girly and gaudy tent, decorated and full of trinkets and clothes. What one would expect of a performer or actress.

"Aw... and I liked this one." Beast complained softly as she slipped out of the broken corset. Mouser noticed another one slipping out of the big travel trunk. She kept from chuckling, picking it up, holding it open.

"How about this one?" She suggested, taking the hint. It was a closed one with a big neckline and thick ribbons on the back. It was still loose. Mouser and Beast made quick work of clasps and ribbons and went out again to rejoin the performance, walking away from the first tier tents at a brisk pace.

"We made it in the nick of time." She still heard Sebastian's whisper before the crowd's cheer engulfed them again.

* * *

"G'job everyone." Joker was praising as the show came to an end and everyone gathered, basking in the glow of a job well done. Mouser smiled blending into the overall mood. "Huh... where is Black?" The master of ceremonies asked, looking around.

"He disappeared in a flash when the encore ended." Dagger smiled, stretching, chuckling. "Ya think he was holding in his wee?" He tossed casually into the air.

"Oh. Maybe that's the case..." Joker chuckled too. Mouser joined in as she should. The only one that was frowning and suspicious was the Grim Reaper who left as soon as it was possible. There was a collective laugh with hints of understanding, companionship going around, plans to go to the mess hall, to . The debuts were always stressful for the performer.

"Silk, wanna grab something at the mess?"

"Nah. I've gotta walk before I lose my legs." Mouser smiled and winked. "Fell bubbly ya know…" there were more laughs and comments and encouragements as she walked away.

* * *

"Hey. What're you doin' there?" Doll called out suddenly. Mouser was walking by, already in casual attire, stopping, glancing towards her left, towards a small gap between tents filled with crates. The boyo was crouching there and the tightrope walker was close, lounging forward, pulling him to the ground, hand clapped over his mouth. "Don't move." She was whispering, her free hand moving through the dirt.

"Hey, Doll what are you doing?" Dagger called from the other side of the tent with Snake. The members of the first tier were returning to their tents. It was time to sleep. The boyo's heart was beating in a panic. Fear of discovery and the discomfort of being near someone else. Someone else that was very intimately placed.

"Snake." Doll called out suddenly, gripping a brightly coloured thin snake that wriggled and hissed in outrage. Snake's eyes widened slightly, fidgeting. "A venomous snake was slitherin' about."

"Wah!" Dagger shrieked, scooting away.

"Didn't I tell you to not let them loose outside?" Someone, most likely Joker, scolded.

"You'd better put them away in your room properly now." Dagger was shouting in a very high pitched voice, still away from the creature.

"I'm sorry for my carelessness that could have sent you to the next world."

Said Snake.

He reached for the snake, allowing it to coil around his arm and then going around his neck. It was still looking and sounding rather irked.

"Yes… put them away I beg you." Dagger shouted, dodging into his tent.

Mouser almost could hear the shivers. Then her attention shifted again to the hiding boyo and Doll that returned for him, grabbing his wrist, dragging him through the winding corridors between the cloth tents.

"This way. Hurry." The boyo was cold, shivering, tripping over his feet and the suspicious cough was not leaving him. Mouser doubled back and perched on some crates, watching the scene while gave instructions and led the boyo to the sheltered back area. "Don't touch that rope." As they were finally there she did a small reconnaissance, seeing if they were truly alone. They were not but Mouser had a few years and lot of skill training over them. "It should be fine now since we came so far."

"Why did you help me?" The boyo asked, confused.

"You still don't get it? It's me." Doll pulled the rose wig away, smiling, her hair flopping down around her face.

"Freckles?!" The boyo shouted, surprised."You're a guy… yet you wear that costume…" Gender challenged… Mouser chuckled, resting her head on her palms, placing her elbows on the knees.

"How rude." She bristled, grabbing his hand "It's obvious I'm a girl. Here." Said gripped hand was plopped open right on top of a budding boob. Ciel almost shrieked and recoiled as if Freckles was on fire. Mouser chortled, amused. Freckles also thought the reaction was hilarious and did not resist playing wit it further. "You can take a peek downstairs next if you want."

"No thank you!" The boyo shouted, close to a slight panic attack. Mouser covered her lips. Look who was still very innocent despite all... or maybe still too young.

"So why were you in there anyway?" Doll asked, arms crossed looking a bit more grown, disapproving and stern. All in all in charge, first tier. "Didn't Joker tell you about the venomous snakes?"

The boyo seemed to be thinking fast.

"About that…" He hesitated then launched into a sobbing tirade. "I'm sorry. I didn't actually steal anything today though… Please don't boot me out of here!" now he wanted to be a thief. Mouser smiled and adjusted her position. Doll had been blindsided and was shocked, trying to process that new information.

"Today? You…"

"Before I became a page boy I was actually living on the East End having to do all I could just to survive. I knew it was wrong but I couldn't help myself. The mansion I worked for previously found out about it… I… If I was driven out of here I would have to live in the East End again…"

So he was using shards of her story? Mouser shook her head. He was also saying entirely too much for it to be a truly convincing story. Too much sobbing. Too much judgements of value, good and evil. No street thief would care about it. Any boy or girl in the east end would slit a throat without a qualm for a warm meal, a blanket, a wallet and the boots the victim was wearing.

"So you really didn't steal anything?" Doll asked, confirming the facts.

"No… I swear to God." Ciel said with a nervous glint in his eyes, hands clasped together, fidgeting.

"Oh, well… I have no choice then. It's ok. Anyhoo I owe you."

"Thank you so much."

"I think everyone has things about themselves they don't want anyone to know. Besides… I did something bad to you today." Freckles smiled, lowering her head. "So I won't tell anyone about this. But now we're even. However don't steal again no matter what."

Mouser snorted.

"Yes. But can I ask something? Why is a first tier member like you sharing a tent with me?" The boyo tried to understand what was happening and if something could be gained from the shared quarter.

"Staying with someone helps me sleep better sometimes." The girl admitted calmly. "I hope you don't mind it now that you know."

"Of course not." The boyo chuckled, smiling.

"Neat. So we'll keep a secret of what happened today." Freckles hopped away, leaving him. Mouser chuckled and chose to walk up to him, patting his shoulder, examining his sudden frown.

"Losing the smile trick already?"

"How long have you been there?" He asked calmly, staring at the darkness.

"The whole time." Mouser smiled and stretched as they started to walk. "I am flattered you want to be a thief although your work in the tents was sloppy and subpar." She touched his forehead, frowning for a moment. "Boyo?" He was looking sickly and the cough was similar to things she had seen dying from overexposure to cold.

"Come. I need to talk to Sebastian.

"Aye, aye."

"Young Master…" Sebastian acknowledged when they entered the tent, letting the flap fall. The boyo was shivering now. The Grim Reaper just stared them down with disgust.

"You…" The boyo started, stopping to breathe. "You released the venomous snakes even though you knew I was still there?"

Sebastian seemed taken aback for a moment before smirking slowly, nodding in acknowledgement.

"Yes. It's because earlier you gave an order to release the snakes as the first tier members returned. What's the matter?" Phrasing, grammar, double meanings and punctuation. Vital to Demon Dealing. Mouser climbed onto the bed, resting on her stomach, observing. "What is so wrong that you must make that face? Please don't worry." Sebastian was mocking while looking all support and understanding. So his temper had been somewhat strained. Mouser yawned and kept looking. The most likely reason was under her, glaring with a Death Scythe at ready. "As long as there is a contract I will protect your life. However if you make a mistake of your own accord you will possibly suffer a painful experience while alive." So he was still teaching. Most likely considering the boyo had been pushy and overconfident as of late. "You already know that don't you? Any game becomes boring when it lacks thrills. I though the Young Master who is greedy for games would think the same."

"It's in bad taste to play games that make me want to throw up Demon." Ciel smirked, keeping up the banter.

"It's an honour." Sebastian bowed formally, using his butler tone.

"Well. Enough of that." Ciel coughed and moved deeper inside. "I found a piece of paper with my name on it in Joker's tent. From what I say they have my rank, my mansion's address and a simple personal story."

"So Charlotte was right calling it." Mouser piped in thoughtfully. "The disappeared children where specifically ordered hits. It shows skill, forethought and thorough planning. The circus is a tool" A good tool full of people with skills that could double in purpose.

"The sender is…" the boyo continued, pacing. The sudden sound and sinking of the blade of the scythe on the ground made him jump away, startled.

"You are intruding on my private property by three centimetres." Spears stated, irritated. "Incapable of staying away… exactly like a dog and its owner." He continued grumbling in an insulting way largely ignored by the trio.

"Sebastian. Let's go outside. Mouser." The boyo ordered.

"Yes." Sebastian followed immediately. Mouser groaned and hopped down, raking a hand over her loose hair, pushing it away from her shoulders. Once outside the plotting resumed, the boyo taking shelter and hiding in-between tents, Sebastian standing in front of him, under the light, mouser next slipping slightly into the shadows.

"So the sender's name is Tom the Pied Piper's son."

"Pied Piper's son?" Sebastian asked, as if confirming he had heard right.

"Like nursery rhyme?" Mouser asked, confused. The last encounter with London bridge had been quite enough with the creepy singing, thank you very much.

"Yes. It's a character from Mother Goose." The boyo expanded on that. "I have no idea what it means. Also there is a hallmark of the horse in the sealing wax along with the initial K."

"Then it's the same as what I saw." Beast's leg, a mark of possession, the circus as a tool and if they had a crest it was a noble. How much had the boyo bet with her again?

"Normally the sealing is engraved with a symbol of motivation and the initial of the person plus the family crest. People who have their crests displaying horses are usually knights or military." The boyo grew thoughtful. "It's not a rule although a crest is impossible to get without a rank of some level. All of this crests are recorded by a heraldry. No matter how many records they have I know you are able to find this information alone." He sighed, hugging himself, still shivering. "Disappearing children, Pied Piper's son and me… I wonder how these pieces are connected."

"Young Master…" Sebastian was starting to see that something was amiss in the boyo's body.

"Firstly I'll return to the town house…" Ciel was saying before the cough turned violent, violent enough to rob him of air and pull a retching reaction. Mouser jumped back, circling him, catching his shoulders, steadying him while the lack of air made him fall to his knees.

"Young Master what's wrong? Young Master?" Sebastian was, for once too surprised to act, unable to pinpoint the source.

"Smile what's wrong?" Freckles, attracted by the noise ran to them, trying to help.

* * *

"It's asthma." The Doctor said after the examination, having changed and cared for the shivering boyo. His breathing was a bit harsh and short. Mouser sighed and shook her head. It looked about right.

"Asthma? This is the first time I've seen him in this condition even though I've been with him for three years." Sebastian said, thinking, examining the boyo.

"If he hasn't had this condition for three years it's considered as being recovered." The Doctor explained, flipping pages of his notes. "Though all you need is a sudden chill, or time of stress… then if he gets a cold it can abruptly come back."

"I have seen him suffer a cold once or twice though it was never this bad." The butler noted, moving his wheelchair, letting them come closer.

"This is probably the main causes coincided. And it's natural for him to get a cold when he went out bathing with our brutish people…" The dark haired man scoffed. "Oh great… your regained consciousness."

"Water…" the boyo croaked out.

"Here you go." Sebastian picked the small pot and helped him drink while Freckles sighed in relief. Mouser smiled and patted his head, sitting next to his pillow.

"Smile… you've had bad asthma since you were very young right? There are cases where people have died from it. You should be careful even if you think you are fully recovered. Rest until the fever and coughing has stopped. You guys should get going then."

* * *

"Sebastian?" The boyo groaned, still looking a bit feverish and pale.

Also he had Freckles wrapped around him, snoring slightly much to his annoyance. Even in the sick bay...

"You called?" The Demon asked, appearing. Mouser walked behind him silently, chuckling slightly at the scene as Sebastian neared the boyo and knelt, extending one hand as asked. Sebastian did so and was ordered to investigate the crest and the locations of the archives. He bowed his head and Mouser smiled, both turning, pausing a bit to glance back. "By the way…" The demon whispered very softly. "I'll keep it a secret from Lady Elizabeth that you shared a bed with another girl. Please do not worry." His chuckle was soomth and light.

"He did more than share a bed. He copped a feel." Mouser added to the fun, watching the boyo's face shift.

"Did he now? How outrageous."

"You knew from the start didn't you?" He wheezed out, annoyed and startled. The thief chuckled and blew him a raspberry in playful mood. The butler just left at a dignified pace as if none of that was happening on his back and watch. They walked out, stopping at the entrance, exchanging a glance as they secured the flaps as they were, looking around to make sure no one had followed or was watching.

"Well now…"

"I can stay back and cover for you. It would take you what... a night?"

"If a trip towards the north can't be avoided..." Sebastian began, calculating, stopping suddenly, pushing her backwards and moving out of the way of the Death Scythe that was aiming at his head. Mouser took a few steps before regaining her balance, hissing. Then she had to make a slight effort not to giggle as William T. Spears in his light blue and white pyjamas stood there with the scythe in hand, adjusting his glasses, looking ridiculously furious.

"Where do you think you're going? I'm quite sure I told you not to wander around without your owner." The Grim Reaper was saying, all threat and business.

"I'm sorry but my Master can't make this move himself." Sebastian straightened and composed himself. "So he has asked me to do it instead."

"I am not listening to excuses."

"What if I vouched for it." Mouser interjected, smiling between them. She went unnoticed by the tension.

"Get back in the tent." Spears ordered, his body coiled in tension, the dislike plain. "Until my inspection is finished you are not allowed to carry out any independent actions. One small mistake could lead to lots of overtime."

"My apologies. I also have my duties as a butler." Sebastian was smiling pleasantly but moving under his clothes, getting ready for a confrontation. Mouser scooted closer t him. "I must not disturb the sleeping master." The scythe was unleashed. Sebastian didn't bother to dodge, blocking it, letting the blade cut through his glove and skin, blood pooling around it, staining the fabric. The scent had changed... Mouser noticed it, staring at the bright red. "You don't want to cause trouble either, do you? How about it? Would you make a deal with me? If you let me go for one hour I vow I'll never eat souls in your assigned area again. It's only one hour. What do you say?"

It was a smooth, flawless deal with no visible downside. It was good.

"I refuse." Not good enough for someone who stayed rooted and focused. "You deceive you prey with sweet words and drag them into darkness." Spears sneered, releasing the blade, letting Sebastian go. "Isn't that a demon's signature ability?"

"Indeed." The Grim Reaper scoffed, leaving them alone. Mouser slid the glove away from Sebastian's hand, staring at the closing wound. Then she slid her lips over the blood, feeling his amusement. It was a bit instinctive, touching the red, sealing the wound. "As expected it didn't work. He left me no choice. Let's think of another way." Mouser nodded quietly with the taste of his blood on her lips. It was a very different feel from before... but as for the situation... even a tool needed to know the basics to be... well... competent was the bare minimum requirement. So they should hunt for the weakest member to snare.


	28. Chapter 28

"Where are you going?" The call made both demons stop their wandering, glancing towards the source of the sound, near the beasts' pens. It was fairly easy to recognise the voice. Beast had been waiting For Joker. It should be assumed that their cover had been somewhat blown. Mouser followed Sebastian to a hiding spot on top of a cage, lighting a cigarette slowly, watching. Either because the boyo had left clues or because their behaviour had been suspicious didn't really matter.

"I'm off to see father." Joker answered, turning, approaching her. Beast seemed tense, conflicted. Her mind and heart had clear cracks. Mouser leaned slightly, eyes narrowing while she allowed smoke to slip free from her lips. Just a little push, just a little more of heartbreak, just another crack… all they needed was a bit of vulnerability. "What about you? Can't sleep?" Joker asked kindly.

"Let's quit." Beast said simply, with a definite edge in her voice. So the tool was conflicted about its duty. Perfect. Only added to the wounded spidery cracks that appeared on her soul's reflection. "We have this circus. We can work it out. So let's stop doing this things and escape to a place where father can't find us."

"Over the hills?" Joker smiled as if recalling a sweeter memory. "That's impossible." He sighed, lowering his head slightly. What was there to hold him back? Beast was correct in her assessment. They had all the advantages needed to run. "I don't have time to talk about such things." Joker turned, his voice resigned and tired.

"Wait…" Beast called, lunging for him, embracing the man much to his surprise.

"What is wrong? This isn't like you." Joker was looking over his shoulder. Then his eyes hardened. It was his determination and promises that were being tested. "This is what we decided. We decided to protect our most precious thing. For that we'll do anything." He stated again. Beast only held tighter.

"But I don't want to see that pained face anymore… because… I…" Mouser tilted her head, blowing a strand of smoke. Sebastian chuckled next to her, taking only a passing interest in a scene. He had experience on his side. Mouser wagered he'd seen similar things before. Was Beast about to say it and break the seemingly eternal stalemate they were stuck in or…

"Did you forget?" Joker turned, stopping her, gripping Beast's arms, shaking her lightly for a moment. "We can't turn away now." He stopped, composing himself, letting o with a sigh, his face saddened. He then forced a smile. "Staying up late is not good for your health." He said wrapping his scarf around Beast's neck. Her eyes were slightly moist, hesitating. Joker started to leave.

"Joker!" She called.

"Good night…" Joker said back, smiling, waving slightly, going towards the stables.

Beast just stood there under the gas light alone, conflicted and vulnerable. The scent of tears was salty and bitter. And her soul was tainted by grief and frustration that had been allowed to fester, shimmering pale. Mouser smirked holding her almost spent cigarette. Sebastian was an agile shadow moving on the top of a cage nearer to his prey.

"Oya, oya… are you crying?" He whispered calmly, his voice dropping, teasing, the cruel edge hidden, created to make her answer even though there was nothing particularly aggravating about the words. Even so no one who presented herself as tough and temper-prone as Beast liked to be so blatantly called on a moment of weakness.

"You…" She growled without turning, gripping the scarf. "This had nothing to do with you. Go away!" She shouted, eyes closed, trying to stem the steady trickle of tears

"But… I think that is impossible…" Sebastian was suddenly very close, startling her easily.

"What?" Beast staggered a bit but managed to stand her ground, even dumbfounded.

If one was to say something that contradicted a lifetime of beliefs… especially if those beliefs were already being questioned by the recipient of such a treatment… Beast was listening. Others would have already ran or attacked. Or even defended. More. She had _asked_.

"It's pointless to pursue a human like him." Sebastian continued, his voice weaving easily through pity and comprehension. Both were sure to rile Beast, make her fall further into doubt and into his trick. "He cannot return your feelings." And she knew it. Joker was deeply into his duty and that small exchange they had witnessed branded him as fiercely loyal. Whether that loyalty stemmed from adoration or fear was irrelevant. Someone held the leash and left room for nothing else. "He thinks he should treat you nicely at least but he knows it will hurt you in the end. How cruel." Sebastian grabbed the scarf gently, pulling it, showing it to her without looking like he was giving proof of anything. His black nails were plainly visible as the gloves had been ruined. Small dots of blood marked the white cuff of his shirt, escaped and unnoticed from the closed and disappeared wound. "When did this start? The miserable tears and a relationship that relies on nothing more than sentimentality?"

That snapped Beast out of her listening daze. And she went immediately into an attack, trying to punch the demon's offending face. Mouser smirked. Good luck with that. The blighter was tougher to hit than an eel. Also when one did hit he was harder than a brick wall. Was he going to let himself be hit or was he just going to dodge and build her rage?

"What would you understand?" She shrieked, still trying.

"Nothing." Rage when spent and if there was no clear objective or target left one drained, tired, defenceless as soon as the bout ended. "But there is one thing I know." Sebastian continued smoothly, dodging and gripping her wrist and arm, standing behind Beast, leaning to whisper. "There is a way to release you from that pain just for a while."

"Stop kidding. Let. Me. Go." Beast shouted and squirmed but Mouser noticed that there was not really an effort to get away. She could see that Sebastian's grip was nowhere near truly tight. The tears had stopped and a blush of both rage and desire was staining her cheeks. Her heart beat was up and her scent was changing. Mouser tossed the dead butt to the ground, playing with the lighter, watching the scene play.

"I am not joking around." Sebastian continued, his tone still very calm, reeling Beast in. "What will you do with this pile of painful thoughts? The weight of it will neither move backwards or forwards. Even if you desperately try to call out to him he will never look back at you." From the generic to the actual situation. Each word was hitting home and hitting hard. It was actually possible to see her crumble. "How pitiable. It's painful isn't it? Don't you want to feel comfort?" It was also very interesting to see what he had done to her from the outside. But Beast seemed to be lacking the awareness that it was a game. Or maybe she just had forgotten the most important rule in the streets. "Forget him who is kind and cruel."

"I… I…" Beast finally fell, eyes closing slowly, surrendering without will.

"Wouldn't it be good to forget everything?" Sebastian whispered against her ear, making his warmth dance and entice, the whisper too near and personal to be ignored, using her crumbling defences masterfully. "Even if it's just for tonight? Indulge in pleasure…"

Mouser sighed, stood and dusted her clothes off. That was a done deal. Might as well walk around and deflect anyone who would be looking for either of them. One would not want sweet ol' Dagger to find out about his beloved Sister's indiscretions now...

* * *

"That was rather quick. By my experience at least." Mouser said as Sebastian walked out of the tent, looking as pristine as ever, having discarded both gloves now. She was sitting on the crates, legs crossed. A couple of spent cigarettes were fallen near her feet and a third one was being consumed between her smirking lips.

"The information was just waiting to drip from her lips." Sebastian said, joining her. Smoke, alcohol, the faded scent of card paper, fear and frustration of other men clinging to her, as if desperate to reclaim the money cheated out of them. She had been gambling."I did not need to do much."

"I trust she was happy and satisfied." Mouser shrugged, smirking.

"What satisfaction she gained of this encounter will be short lived and turn bitter soon enough." Sebastian answered, his eyes shimmering sadistically red for a moment.

"Really." Mouser blew smoke slowly in a steady silver stream, hopping down, tossing the but away, glancing around, ignoring the cold air. "Well that was indeed easier than going to the archives then." She eyed him appreciatively. "You are looking very put together. I've seen so many men walk out of brothels with their clothes a mess…" Unable to dress themselves without the help of a valet. She adjusted his tie pointlessly. "Not even this thing is out of place."

"A Phantomhive butler should look put together all the time." He joked, approaching, gauging her mood.

Mouser smirked, showing fangs, pulling his tie out of place and pulling him down with it.

"Just because I'm willing to let you play does not mean I won't mark you next." Mouser whispered in a condescending tone, patting his cheek.

"Jealousy?" Sebastian chuckled, amused, one hand holding her face, tiling it up, towards his lips. They were close enough to feel each other's heat. Mouser frowned for a moment. Despite having been with Beast there seemed to be no trace of her scent on him. Either her senses were failing or he was just camouflaging. Not that she cared much either way while his fingers were teasing the skin of her jaw.

"Possession, demon." Mouser whispered back, kissing him, capturing his mouth, her tongue tracing his lower lip gently before nipping. Sebastian's arms went around her, pulling her up to keep the lips locked, the sensations of warmth and hunger twining, their tongues touching and trying to outdo each other. It was still a game. But this one meant something. Mouser sighed, parting, her arms around him, as if she was not letting go, leaning against his ear, the words brushing it gently, enticingly. "We have been interrupted by Indians, curry, Chinese, Scotland Yard, Grim Reapers and circus people not to mention the usual boyo that keeps you busy. Do you have any idea how badly I want to drag you to some dark corner?"

"Do tell." Sebastian whispered back, the air caressing her mouth, teasing her without giving.

Mouser groaned and yanked him back to her mouth, biting hungrily. Sebastian's arms pressed her against his boy, allowing her to do whatever she desired. He could feel her nails, slightly sharpened running over his back slowly, her heath increasing. He understood. He also wanted her. His hands were enough proof of that. While still, keeping her up they were splayed on her backside, making her breasts flat against his chest, rubbing against the fabric with each fevered drag of air.

"I am seriously considering abusing that top bunk and the Grim Reaper under it." Mouser panted slowly, slapping his chest playfully as she pushed him away, laughing, a light raspy sound, hopping down from his arms.

* * *

"Sebastian…" The boyo was groaning in a thin, worn voice as the butler checked his temperature, blinking slowly, trying to focus, shuffling within the thin sheets, sleepy and weakened.

"Good Morning." Sebastian resumed his butler duties, pouring a cup of water, walking around, gathering the clothes needed. The bags had already been sneaked out. "Your fever has lowered considerably." The demon appraised. Mouser peeked, smiling. There was no need for lookout and they would not be exactly missed. The news were already around the circus. Smile had a bad bout of asthma and collapsed. Obviously Silk and Black, coming from the same household, would be worried. "How are you feeling?"

"I wouldn't call it good but it's better than yesterday." The boyo rasped out, sitting up, still coughing slightly. His throat sounded raw.

"You ain't dead. That's something between your wimpy body and loose snakes." Mouser pointed out, patting his head with a chuckle. Ciel huffed and sneaked a look at the rumpled sheets next to him.

"She left for breakfast." Sebastian elucidated. "Have some water." He gave the boyo a cup, letting him sip.

"Yes… What happened to your gloves?" The boyo noticed, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "I can see your nails and contract seal." Either of them in the Victorian society would be deemed vulgar and shockingly gaudy. Unless there was money and title. Then they would call it Original and say it was just an eccentricity of the wealthy. Mouser just said that the ink had stained her nails.

"Oh. I got them a little dirty." Sebastian brushed the matter aside and so did the boyo.

"More importantly… I hope you carried out my request." Sick and demanding. A bad combination.

"Yes, of course." Sebastian bowed and picked the boyo up, starting to help in the dressing process. "There's no need for us to be here anymore." He reassured him calmly, finishing with the scarf. "Let's go while everyone is having their meal. We can talk at ease when we're back in the town house." Spears was on their path, glaring at them, as if making sure no demon looked fatter. Sebastian simply walked pass him without any care, giving just a minimal justification out of pure aesthetic courtesy. "We've finished our business here so we'll excuse ourselves now."

"It's none of my business where you go with your master. Be my guest." Spears grumbled, close to unemotional, opening a black note book. "I can move around at ease again." He mumbled quietly, turning his back on them.

* * *

"Ciel where the hell did you go for days without telling me anything!" Soma was there, beside himself with worry, shouting as they walked in. Ciel was still being carried by Sebastian, coughing occasionally, buried on the scarf.

"Welcome back." Agni said, happy they were back, giving a simple greeting to offset his overwrought master.

"If you were gone any longer I would have had to send out a search party." Soma continued, shaking, throwing his arms to the heavens. Mouser shrugged out of her jacket, sneaking by unnoticed.

"It's none of your business." They boyo tried to shout, but it came out raspy and followed by a fit of coughing, only adding to the duo's suspicions. Agni lost his blissful expression, frowning as he though about the situation.

"What happened to you? You look horrible…" Soma approached, examining the boyo under the golden light o the entrance hall, his eyes narrowing slightly then widening in worry.

"Nothing. Get out of the way." The boyo continued the denial, stiffening on Sebastian's arm.

"There is no why it's nothing. You definitely have a cold. Do you have a fever?" Soma tried to approach.

Sebastian sighed and started to move as Ciel complained, trying to deflect the prince's attention.

"I don't. My temperature is fine."

The temper might be an issue though. Mouser thought, standing on top of the staircase, waiting.

"Liar."

"I'm fine."

"Ciel!"

Sebastian closed the door of the boyo's room, putting him down. Ciel fell on the bed, groaning in relief as the butler walked around, preparing what was needed to prepare for an official outing.

"The Young Master certainly has a lot of lies and secrets." Sebastian was saying. Mouser was simply doing the rest, opening curtains and lighting some extra light sources. The day was grey and darkening although it neither looked lit would snow or rain soon. "The young Master didn't even tell me about the chronic illness he has had since childhood. Why didn't you tell me?"

"You never asked so I never told you. Besides it's healed already." The boyo said with a stiff and annoyed carelessness. Most likely he loathed to show any kind of weakness. Even in front of someone who knew all that his behind the child's façade.

"Petulance just makes you look childish boyo." Mouser mentioned, finishing brightening the room, stoking the flames of the small hearth to create a warm environment and placing the poker on its place.

"Is that so?" Sebastian said softly, condescending on the boyo's attitude, hiding his slight disapproval and frustration." Still it's better to be careful. I'll read a medical book about asthma for next time."

"Is that aesthetics too?" Ciel asked with derision, snorting.

"I have to be able to react to any kind of situations as a butler." Sebastian answered with a simple bow.

"I'll go get some warm tea." Mouser smiled as the preparations for the quick bath were ready, poking the boyo's forehead, frowning slightly. It was clammy and hot. She sighed and walked out, her path crossing with Soma and Agni huddled up in a plotting pose.

"Too naïve Ciel!" Soma's voice echoed through the household's main areas. Mouser stopped with the tray in the corridor, staring at Agni's back as he blocked the boyo's doorway. So that was their ploy? A bit childish and not really though through. Soma was inside the room, ready to play the obnoxious big brother. "Don't think you can get out of this townhouse while it's guarded by me! You have a cold and as the governor of this mansion and your best friend I can't overlook this."

"Who's my best friend? Don't say such ridiculous things." Ciel complained grouchily. Mouser arched an eyebrow, placing the tray on a nearby decorative table, pouring tea.

"Agni! Don't let Ciel pass." Soma shouted

"Jo Ajna." Agni answered immediately.

The door was still open, showing the drama.

"Now listen here you… I have a job to do! I don't have time to play your games. Out of the way." The boyo was saying, angrily, the effect broken by the clear weakness in his voice.

"Your job is to lie in bed and be nursed back to health."

"It's different! This much is…"

The shouts were broken by a sudden coughing fit.

Mouser sipped her tea as Agni's shape abandoned the doorway, going deeper into the room. It was a good tea although she had no clue what she had picked from the box of little decorative cans filled with different teas. It had a lovely scent and taste.

"Master Ciel… Please return to bed." Agni was saying, worried. "That kind of cough is characteristic of asthma there's no way you're well."

"Don't touch me so easily." Ciel shouted hoarsely, reaching the edges of his patience. "Sebastian! Get this guys out of my sight."

"Understood." Sebastian said, starting to move.

"Mr. Sebastian!" Agni shouted suddenly, breaking the tension before Sebastian obeyed. Mouser sipped the tea again and added a bit more of sugar. "You're Master's Ciel's butler."

"What?" That caught Sebastian off guard.

"As a fellow butler. No. As a friend I'll say this." Agni started solemnly. "Your Master's body is your first priority. Even tough it might go against his wishes considering Master Ciel's condition you should have stopped him. For my master to be healthy… I would risk my life." The Indian stopped for a moment, emotional, taking that time to stay solemn. "Isn't that what you would call butler aesthetics?"

Sebastian paused, seemingly thoughtful.

"I though granting my master's wishes was my job. But… Certainly you have a point in that way of thinking." The demon admitted after a few moments of careful consideration. Mouse sighed, sipping her tea. And so the boyo was thwarted. The rustle of fabric was sudden but the shout was piercing. The struggle, as weak as it was, due to a weakened condition, fever and bouts of slight hacking cough, was still quite noticeable.

"Why you… why are you being persuaded? My orders are…"

"It's decided that the patient should sleep." Sebastian stated.

"I'll nurse you personally. You should be grateful." Soma announced gleefully and started to give orders that were quickly answered by both servants much to the boyo's displeasure. "Agni prepare rice porridge and a herb bath. Ciel's khansama can get his sleeping clothes and an ice pillow."

Mouser poured the tea while the man walked by without noticing her, adding sugar and sipping, chortling slightly as she placed the cup down and carried the tray to the study. It was a short while of shouting, fussiness and annoyance as she made some headway into the new novel, one about a haunted manor and a trapped heroine that was being lusted after by some kind of monstrous thing and had a dashing hero fight through some sort of maze to protect her purity. Quite frankly she was not seeing how bloodless carnage entered the field of horror novel but the public of fainting ladies seemed to be a little fussy.

* * *

"Here is your tea." Mouser said gently, walking into the room with the tray.

"Where were you?" The boyo said, peeking from the covers he was bundled in. Mouser smiled, placing the tray on the nightstand, climbing onto the bed, sitting next to him, snuggling shamelessly on the pillows, checking his temperature, clicking her tongue gently.

"I was drinking the other tea." The thief admitted. It was good that they had postponed the confrontation trip. He would have collapsed in the middle of the event, she was sure.

"Why didn't you interfere?" The boyo asked grouchily, leaning against her for some reason. Mouser adjusted the covers, scoffing, patting his head.

"Like I could get a word in edgewise. I also believe you should rest for a bit." Too pale, to thin and too defenceless at that point. Anything that had to be done would be hindered by his condition at that moment. "Do you need anything?" Mouser asked, keeping her tone soft.

"Tell me a story." Ciel asked. It was clear he was not asking for Cinderella either. Mouser lowered her head for a moment, looking away.

"You haven't asked that in the longest time…" The thief whispered, her eyes growing dull for a second before smirking. "What do you want to hear?"

"Your first kill." The boyo did not hesitated. Mouser tilted her head. Why that story in particular?

"Really? That…" Mouser hesitated. He was not in the best state and when the boyo asked for a story he wanted the whole thing. "Are you sure you don't prefer something else?"

"I can whine, saying I'm sick." There was something off about that phrase but he could be in a slight delusion.

"So fever makes you have a sense of humour." Mouser chuckled slightly, ruffling his hair, getting him comfortable. "Very well… I was six." Mouser stretched lazily and laid down one her stomach, head on crossed arms, eyes closed sleepily. "The headmistress had put me to work on the streets since I was four, no different that any of the others, and Jack had taken me in after a rather ambitions thieving on my part that got slightly botched. But only at six did the headmistress start to parade us about to the buyers. There were two groups in the orphanage. The favourites and everyone else.

_The favourites had protection and power over the other girls._

_The first time I was prepared and brought out to the buyers was one of the harshest punishments I have ever witnessed in the orphanage. There were others, but nothing came close to that. _

_We were placed like cattle and examined by the men that came in the scheduled day and time. _

_There was this girl, Iphigenia. Good stock. Rich family with minor title. Her parents were dead for a couple of months and she was in the orphanage while contacts were being made, looking for her relatives. All that time she had been one of the favourites and she was a mean chit. Liked to sneer and rub her title and position even at other favourites._

_As she found out that night her status was revoked. Her relatives paid a lot of money to the headmistress to make her disappear and become unfit to inherit. Her side had just a bit more money that the rest of that lineage. I don't know if the men had instructions or were just liking her proud nose. She though she was in line with us to keep discipline. But if that was the reason then why was Emma there? Maybe she thought Emma was the one that had fallen from grace."_

Mouser shook her head, groaning, shifting the position of her arms, peeking, finding him still interested.

"I was not scared though. Even then I knew my worth and I had brought a valuable haul that day… A broken, scared thief was not in the headmistresses' plans.

_Iphigenia did not know she was no longer worth anything. When one of the buyers examined her she answered like any noble lady. All haughtiness, slaps and don't touch me you swine._"

Mouser arched, yawned and turned to the other side of the bed.

"The headmistress gave them permission and they raped her." She stated simply, looking at the closed curtains. A sliver of sun sneaked underneath it, the room darkened to allow the boyo to rest.

"Why are you telling me this?" Ciel asked. It did seem a bit of a roundabout way to go when talking about a killing. Mouser sighed.

"You wanted the story." She replied gently. "If you just asked me the name of my first kill I'd said Iphigenia and left it there." Mouser moved and returned to her stomach, resting her head on her palms, crossing the legs slowly. "I take it you want me to stop?"

"Tell me." The boyo demanded, an interested gleam in his eye.

"Fine. We all watched. There was no choice. It was a way of disciplining us, added to all the other punishments. Either you behave and do as you are told and be grateful for it or _that_ will be your fate. Some threw up. Others cried. Emma fainted. Her belief in the favourite status was shattered. She became a nicer person for a few months… then she turned sixteen and left. Charlotte never told me what did I do… but seeing I seem to recall everything I believe I just… watched. If I did anything else I can't remember.

_When it was over they simply continued with their purchases. Iphigenia was a whimpering mess. The sobbing and screaming and crying only started when it was light's out. Others just ignored it. I went to check on her. When she saw me the begging started. She wanted to die. That's what society says. If you're not pure you're a harlot. And if you have fallen so far it was your fault. And if you're not strong enough it snaps you inside. She was snapped. She begged me to kill her, to not let those men take her away, take her again. So I did. Jack had given me a pocket knife for protection. I used it on her heart and she thanked me for it. Really… it wasn't that much blood until I pulled the blade out…_

_Then I went to hunt… the men always stayed overnight. Moving girls was easier in the daylight, as funny as that sounds. Just had to say they were hired guards and be accompanied by the headmistress as safeguard. I killed three of them while they slept. Slit their throats. That was a lot more blood than I was expecting. The fourth woke up. He screamed. He was terrified of a little bloodstained girl"._

Mouser chortled, rolling onto her back, eyes closed, smiling her fangs were distinct, sharp and noticeable, stabbing her lower lip lightly.

"He ran away.

_I asked Jack. He helped me catch him. That one… I made him bleed. Took him quite a while to die. Even so there were so many after that… __so many friends getting raped, killed some of them because they were too broken to care or function. Some asked me to end it too. Others did it to themselves. Others were strong. The survivors are something else… The thing is… I never did stop paying back. Although I freely admit it was not about them._"

Mouser sighed and sat up. Sleepily the boyo leaned against her. Hard to tell what he was thinking.

"Anything else?"

"No." The whisper was hoarse but the cough had gone away for now and while the fever still burned he was calm. He hadn't even demanded the tea. Mouser slid her black tipped fingers through the dark tresses gently, smiling. He was out. A small sound from the corridor caught her attention.

"Why... why would you tell him something like that?" Soma was standing on the doorway, wide-eyed and shocked, shivering. Mouser hummed, still petting the boyo's head before leaning, kissing the forehead quickly to assess his temperature, standing and adjusting the covers under the shocked eyes of the prince.

"Because unlike you he has been hurt before. Sometimes it helps to know that there are others whose pain runs as deep as yours. He was feeling hurt again, most likely due to the fever dreams. Those burdened with pain dislike feeling vulnerable ever again." Mouser smiled, allowing the teen to come closer. "So I showed him it could be worse. You said you were nursing him to health?"

Soma nodded, speechless.

Mouser smiled.

"Good night then."


End file.
